


Apropos Of Nothing

by Gir_Hugs



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America (2011), Incredible Hulk (2008), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: ...author not sure how to describe it, Alternate Timeline, Because the author cannot write something without a little angst, Clint is a little overprotective, Coulson is an amazing-ly unconventional babysitter, Coulson knows the Vulcan Nerve Pinch, Darcy is Queen of the Taser, Flashbacks, Gen, Humor, Kidnapping, Nicknames, No Arc Reactor, Snark, more like an Alternate Starkline, slight angst, teenage!Tony, teenage!Tony is a handful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gir_Hugs/pseuds/Gir_Hugs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is three years old when he is kidnapped and held for ransom.  Howard Stark refuses to pay and Tony is never seen again, presumed to be dead.</p><p>Thirteen years later, Agent Phil Coulson is sent out on a mission to find an ingenious hacker and bring him into SHIELD. Coulson’s training has prepared him for gun-fights, torture, interrogations, hand-to-hand combat, explosives, paperwork…you know, the usual.  What it didn’t prepare him for is finding a brilliant but unruly teenager and being assigned his caretaker.</p><p>Yeah, everyone at SHIELD is in for one hell of a ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cast Into A Different Life

 

“Hello,” a blonde man smiled down at a very tiny Tony Stark.  Tony had been sitting on a bench outside his school for two hours at that point, waiting for his mother to come pick him up.  Usually Jarvis was the one to come get him, but Jarvis was visiting some friends and had told Tony to wait for his mother to pick him up.  So there Tony waited…but his mother had not come to get him yet.

 

The teacher, Miss Heather, had been waiting with him at first and tried calling his mother after a while.  Maria had said she was on her way and that it was all right to leave if Miss Heather wanted.  Miss Heather felt terrible about leaving such a small child on his own, but Maria Stark had assured her she would be there soon.  The school was in a good neighborhood and Miss Heather really needed to go pick up her own child from the middle school nine blocks away. 

 

Tony smiled at his teacher and told her he would just sit there and wait for his mother.  He didn’t like it when she frowned.  His teacher was very nice and she didn’t need to worry about him.  Tony was a big boy and could take care of himself, he told her proudly.

 

Smiling worriedly down at the little boy, Miss Heather had waited another few minutes before leaving.  That had been twenty-five minutes ago and Tony’s mother still had not come to get him.  But now there was this man talking to him…maybe he was going to wait with Tony now. 

 

Tony stared up at the man, eyes large and innocent, his fingers clutching tightly to the backpack in his lap.  Cocking his head to the side, Tony spoke quietly, “hi.”

 

The man kneeled down next to Tony, making it easier for Tony to speak with him.  Tony didn’t like being so tiny.  It made speaking to adults difficult because it hurt his neck.  Tony used to just talk to their legs, because knees were at his height…but his father hadn’t liked that.  No, Howard had not liked that one bit.  He said it was disrespectful.  Howard said Tony needed to learn proper manners and must look someone in the eye when speaking with them.

 

Tony always looked adults in the eye now and used a quiet, polite tone.  The pain in his neck was better than the pain all over.  Howard had taught him that once and Tony was a fast learner.

 

“What’s your name?” 

 

Tony bit his lip, unsure if he should answer.  Jarvis told him not to speak with strangers…but Howard told him never to disrespect adults.  And it would be disrespectful if Tony ignored the man, right?  Tony didn’t like disappointing Jarvis, but he didn’t like the pain even more, so he decided to answer.

 

“Anthony Stark.”

 

As soon as Tony said his name the man got that gleam in his eyes that Tony sometimes saw in the eyes of the villains in movies on TV.  He didn’t like that gleam.  It was scary.  But he knew that villains were supposed to be scary, so maybe it was okay.

 

“Are you now…why are you out here all alone?”  The man’s wild eyes darted around, searching for something. Tony was curious what he was looking for but it wasn’t his place to ask questions of adults.

 

“I’m waiting for my mother.  She was supposed to pick me up from school.”  It was starting to get late and the cold city wind was cutting through Tony’s thin jacket, making him shiver.

 

“Oh...you mean Maria?”  The man said, eyes still ceaselessly scanning the area.  Tony wondered if he would get in trouble for the lack of eye contact.  It wasn’t Tony’s fault, so Howard shouldn’t get mad at Tony, right?

 

“You know my mother?” Tony asked curiously.

 

The man nodded his head enthusiastically, grinning widely.  Tony tried not to cringe when he saw the man’s teeth.  They were kind of crooked and yellow and made creepy-crawlies go up and down Tony’s arms.  But Tony didn’t tell the man so, that would be rude.

 

“Yes, she asked me to come pick you up for her.” 

 

“She did?”

 

The man hopped to his feet, holding out his hand to Tony.  “Mmhmm, so we better get going.”  Tony frowned in thought, not sure what to do.  Jarvis had told him to wait for his mother and this man was very obviously not his mother.

 

“I don’t know, mister…”

 

“Come on Anthony, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your parents, would you?”

 

Gulping loudly, Tony shook his head back and forth.  “No, sir.”  It was a bad idea to make Howard mad, and Tony was a smart boy who avoided bad ideas.

 

Tony reached out a tiny hand and let himself be pulled up next to the man.   He scampered along, almost losing his balance in his attempt to keep up with the man’s long strides.

 

The man led him over to an old, run-down car, holding the back door open.  Tony frowned, feeling something was wrong.  Neither of his parents would be seen in or even be associated with such a dirty vehicle.  Howard always stressed that appearances meant everything.  The man’s slightly wrinkled suit had made Tony suspicious before, but the state of the car set off all kinds of warning bells.

 

“Sir…” Tony said warily, trying to back away from the man.  “Actually, I think I’ll just wait for my mother.”

 

Tony yelped when the man grabbed hold of his arms roughly, swiping him off his feet and throwing him into the back seat.  Tony’s head hit the door on the other side, and his vision started going dark around the edges. 

 

This had happened before, once, when his father had come home smelling strongly of alcohol.  Howard had been mad at Tony for leaving his toys out and threw him into the bookcase.  Tony had realized then that it was easier to just give in to the darkness- like taking a nap- rather than fighting it.

 

So, closing his eyes, Tony drifted off with the hope that Howard wouldn’t be too displeased with him when he finally got home.

 

 

**XxXxXxXxXx      A     xXxXxXxXxXx      O       xXxXxXxXxXx    N     xXxXxXxXxXxX**

 

 

Tony slowly blinked his eyes open, letting out a small whimper when a throb of pain went through him.  He reached trembling fingers to the back of his head and wrinkled his nose when they came away wet and sticky.  Gross.

 

Looking around the small room he was in, Tony decided he didn’t like it.  The room was dark and cluttered.  Tony was curled into a tiny ball in one corner, the only open space in the room.  There was dust in the air and it made Tony’s nose itch.  It was also cold.  Tony ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to get a little warmer, but it didn’t help much.  Tony decided he _really_ didn’t like this room.  He wanted to go home.

 

Biting down on a wobbly lip, Tony forced the cries back down his throat and rapidly blinked away the tears in his eyes.  Howard didn’t like it when Tony cried.  He said temper tantrums were for uncivilized children and he had not raised Tony to be uncivilized.  Tony hadn’t known what uncivilized meant.

 

Often times, Howard used big words Tony didn’t know.  But Tony would always just nod his head in agreement with whatever Howard said and then ask Jarvis what they meant later.  Jarvis was always very kind when he explained things to Tony, not at all like his father.  Tony missed Jarvis.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he waited there in the dark, but it seemed like a very long time.  Almost as long as the timeouts his mother gave him.  He usually didn’t mind timeouts.   They were supposed to be punishments, or so his mother told him, but it gave him time to think.  Tony liked using his mind and so timeouts never really seemed that bad.  Timeouts were better than the punishments that Howard gave him.

 

But even though this activity involved a lot of sitting and waiting like a timeout, it was not the same.  Tony couldn’t escape to his little world of science like usual; the wound on his head made it difficult to think.  His thoughts were all fuzzy and he had a difficult time just keeping his eyes open.

 

He could hear voices on the other side of the door.  A man and a woman.  They were arguing about something.  Tony ignored the angry voices and looked around the room more carefully, trying to see if there was anything in there that would make his wait more comfortable. 

 

There was a vacuum and a broom and a bucket with a mop and a bunch of bottles.  Tony slowly went through and opened the bottles.  They smelt like chemicals, so Tony just set them aside.  He eventually found a blanket tucked under a heavy box that Tony had to lean all his weight against just to move.  Once he secured the blanket, he sat back down in his corner and snuggled underneath it.  His throat felt dry and his tummy growled for food, but at least he was warm now. 

 

Tony’s head wasn’t hurting as bad anymore so he started running through his multiplication tables to pass the time.  He was on fifteen by seventeen when the door swung open.  Tony had to blink his eyes a lot for them to adjust, his head poking out from under the blanket.

 

Standing in the doorway was a woman.  She was willowy and pale, but she had a smile on her face that reminded Tony of Miss Heather.  Tony watched her silently as she crouched down next to where he was curled up.

 

“Hi, Sweetie.  I’m so sorry Leo put you in here.  Would you like to come out now?”  Her voice was soft and kind and Tony decided he liked her a lot more than the man from before. 

 

Nodding shyly, Tony was surprised when the woman reached out to pull him into her arms.  The only one who had ever held him before was Jarvis.  Howard and Maria said he wasn’t a baby anymore so he could use his own two feet.

 

The woman wasn’t as big and comfy as Jarvis but Tony snuggled his face into the crook of her neck all the same.  She felt safe.  The woman took him into a living room of sorts where the man from before was sitting in a corner of the room, staring at a cell phone in his hands.  Sitting down on the couch, the woman ran a comforting hand up and down Tony’s back as he watched the man with wide eyes.

 

“My name is Jennifer, but you can call me Jenny,” the woman whispered into Tony’s ear.  Tony nodded his head to confirm he had heard her but remained quiet, eyes locked on the man.

 

“I’m Tony,” he whispered, scared to draw attention from the man.

 

Jenny saw where Tony’s attention was focused and sighed.  “That’s Leo,” Jenny continued, “he’s going to be calling your parents and you’ll be home in no time.  Would you like to go home?”

 

Tony thought about that.  Jarvis was going to be gone for a week so no one would be at home to play with.  Jenny seemed nice enough; maybe if he stayed here, she would play with him.  Before Tony could answer, he let out a startled yelp when Jenny ran her fingers through his hair and prodded the owwie there.

 

“I’m so sorry!  Are you hurt?”  Jenny shifted Tony in her arms until she could get a look at the back of his head.  “Oh goodness, I better clean that up.”

 

Tony jumped off Jenny’s lap when she told him to, going slightly dizzy for a second.  Jenny helped him get his balance and then Tony followed her to a small bathroom down the hall.  Once there, Jenny lifted Tony onto the counter and got out a washcloth.  She ran it under some warm water and then started cleaning away the blood in his hair.  Tony tried not to squirm or make any noise and just focused on the soothing words flowing from Jenny’s lips.  Once she was satisfied the wound was clean, Jenny threw the washcloth in the tub.

 

Tony glanced over at the toilet, crossing his legs and trying to be still until Jenny said he could move again…but he really had to go to the bathroom.  Jenny noticed his squirming and smiled kindly at him.

 

“Do you have to use the potty, Sweetie?”  Tony nodded his head.  “Do you need help?

 

"No, Jenny.  I can do it myself.  I'm a big boy." Of course he didn't need help going to the potty.  Jarvis had taught him how to use the toilet ages ago!  Howard said he didn't need a child who couldn't even piss on his own.  So of course, Tony had to learn how to use the potty quickly.

 

Jenny lifted Tony off the counter and set him on his feet.  Once Jenny was out of the bathroom- telling Tony she’d be just on the other side of the door if he needed any help- Tony went about his business.  Unfortunately, this toilet was a lot higher than the one in Tony’s room.  Swallowing his embarrassment, Tony called out for Jenny’s help.  She just smiled kindly when he explained his predicament and held him up so he could use the toilet.  When she took him to the sink so he could wash his hands and then carried him back towards the living room.

 

Leo met them in the hallway, fingers twitching at his sides, pupils dilated and bloodshot.  His eyes had that glassy look his mother’s eyes got when she swallowed the blue pills, not the white ones.

 

“Okay, Jenny, it’s time.  Bring the boy.”

 

Tony wrapped his arms around Jenny’s neck as she carried him outside.  He wrinkled his nose in distaste when he saw the car again.  He didn’t like that car; it had hurt him.  But he behaved for Jenny and didn’t make a single noise of complaint when she put him in the back.  Jenny buckled him in and then got in the passenger seat.  Turning around in the seat, she offered Tony a reassuring smile as Leo got in the driver’s seat.

 

“We’re going to go to Time Square.  At this time, there will be huge crowds there.  You’ll take the boy and keep him somewhere close by, go get him some food or something; I don’t care.  I’ll make the call and then ditch the phone in case they trace it and then I’ll come get you.”

 

Jenny nodded her head as Leo started the car up.  Tony looked out the window, watching the large city skyscrapers go by.  After forty-five minutes of weaving their way through traffic, Leo pulled the car into a parking structure.  Leo ordered them both out of the car and Jenny immediately took Tony’s hand in hers once they were outside.

 

The trio walked out of the parking structure and began the six-block journey to Time Square.  Tony rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he trudged along beside Jenny.  He was very tired and all he wanted to do was lay down.  Two blocks from Time Square, Leo pointed out a cafe and told Jenny to take the boy there before continuing on.  Tony let out a sigh of relief when they reached their goal and happily walked into the warm, comforting building.  It smelled really good.

 

“Do you want something to eat, Sweetie?”

 

Tony scanned the case filled with baked goods and bit his lip when he saw a big chocolate chip cookie.  His tummy grumbled loudly and Tony’s mouth watered when he thought of the chocolaty goodness…but it was rude to ask for things of others.  Tony should be grateful for what he got; Howard always told him so.

 

Shaking his head, Tony glared at his growling tummy and ordered it to be quiet.  It didn’t listen.  Jenny smiled sadly down at Tony and then told the cashier she would like one chocolate chip cookie.  After paying, Jenny steered Tony towards a two-person table in the back corner. 

 

“Wow, this chocolate chip cookie sure does look good,” Jenny said brightly as she pulled the cookie out of the paper bag.  “But,” she bit her lip and then whispered to Tony in a conspiring manner, “I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it. It’s just too big, don’t you think?”  Tony nodded his head.  It was a very big cookie.  “Do you think you can help me?  I don’t want to waste any.”

 

Howard also told Tony he should never waste things.  If Howard was going to spend money on the boy, then Tony had better appreciate it.  So Tony nodded his head eagerly, because he couldn’t let Jenny waste food either.  What if Howard got mad at Jenny?

 

“I can help, Jenny!” Tony whispered excitedly, bouncing in his seat in enthusiasm.

 

Tony and Jenny grinned brightly at each other before Jenny broke off a big piece and held it out to him.  Clutching the cookie in his tiny hands, Tony nibbled at the edge of the cookie.  He hummed happily as the sugary flavor filled his mouth, his legs swinging back and forth under the table.

 

For the next twenty minutes, Jenny asked Tony questions about himself.  How old was he?  Three years, four months and six days.  Jenny had looked very shocked by his precise answer.  What did he like to do? Science experiments.  What did he want to do when he grew up? More science experiments.  What kind of movies did he like?  Science Fiction.  What was his favorite color?  Red.  Jenny had laughed at that, saying she almost expected Tony to answer ‘science!’  Tony just grinned back at her and told Jenny she was being silly.  Science wasn’t a color.

 

Tony had just finished telling Jenny a story about a failed science experiment that had turned his hair blue when Leo suddenly charged into the bakery, face red in anger.

 

“Come on,” he barked, grabbing Tony’s arm roughly and pulling him off his chair.  “It’s time to go.”

 

“What’s wrong?  What happened?”  Jenny asked with a worried frown, moving to check Tony was all right.  Tony just gave her a small smile and rubbed at his sore arm.

 

“I’ll tell you once we’re back in the car,” Leo growled and then marched away, leaving a bewildered Jenny to pick up Tony and race after him.  The walk back to the car was quiet and much faster than before.  Tony was glad Jenny was carrying him; he didn’t think his tired legs could walk that quickly. 

 

Tony tried to stay awake, he really did.  But this had been a very long day for him and he was just so tired.  Finally losing the battle to his drooping eyelids, a young Tony Stark fell asleep.

 

 

**XxXxXxXxXx      A     xXxXxXxXxXx      O       xXxXxXxXxXx    N     xXxXxXxXxXxX**

 

 

“That fucking asshole!”  Leo fumed loudly.

 

"Keep your voice down," Jenny hissed at him, her eyes darting back to see if his exclamation had awoken Tony.  She couldn’t believe Leo had done something so stupid and dangerous like kidnapping the boy, but she’d see this through with him because she loved Leo and Tony deserved to be kept safe.  "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

 

 “They aren’t going to pay,” Leo bit out.

 

Jenny frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest.   “What do you mean they aren’t going to pay?”

 

“I mean precisely what I said.  That bastard Howard Stark said he didn’t care what I did with the boy but he sure as hell was not going to pay $25,000 for him.”

 

“But I thought you said that would be low-balling it.  That the Starks are rich enough to pay millions so asking for only 25k would be a guaranteed win.”  Jenny really wished Leo would stop using those drugs…they made him do stupid things like this half-cocked plan to get cash quick.  She just wanted this whole horrible ordeal to be over with.

 

“They are that fucking rich, but apparently they don’t care enough about the boy to pay even that small amount for him,” Leo grumbled.  “I threatened to kill the boy,” Leo ignored Jenny’s sharp gasp, “and the bastard just said he wasn’t going to pay and then hung up.”

 

“We aren’t really going to…” Jenny gulped loudly, not even able to say the words.

 

Leo shook his head, “no, of course not.”

 

“What are we going to do then?” Jenny asked quietly.

 

A loud smack sounded through the car when Leo hit the steering wheel in anger.  “I don’t fucking know!  We can’t keep him, obviously, and we can’t just return him to his parents because we’ll get caught,” Leo bit his lip, trying to think of a way out of this whole mess.

 

Jenny left him to his thoughts, staying quiet and just trying to keep calm.  She would go along with whatever Leo said, as long as no harm came to the boy.  The child was too precious and innocent to hurt.  Tears came to her eyes when she thought about how his parents had just given up and abandoned him.  How could they not care about such a wonderful little boy? Her hand settled over her stomach and she told her future child she would do anything in her power to keep him safe.

 

“Okay,” Leo startled her from her thoughts.  “We are going to drop by a store and pick up some new clothes and hair dye.  I don’t think it will keep him hidden for too long, but maybe if we can mask his identity for a bit then it will give us enough time to get away.  We’ll dye his hair and dump his backpack and old clothes in a park somewhere.  His backpack has some blood on it so maybe they’ll think we actually did kill him.  I want you to stay at home and start packing all our stuff up.  I’m going to drive the boy to Boston and dump him at a youth home or something and then come back to get you.  We’ll drive to the west coast and hopefully put this whole thing behind us.”

 

“Why take him to Boston?”

 

Leo shrugged his shoulders.  “Maybe putting a little distance between him and home will make it more difficult for them to find him, which will give us more of a head start before they begin looking for us.  I’m hoping by the time they find him, we’ll already be half way to California.”

 

Jenny nodded her head.  The plan sounded shaky but at least there _was_ a plan now.

 

The next few hours were crazy.  Tony woke up again when they were dying his hair blonde. Jenny had smiled at the little boy and told him it was just another experiment, like the one that had turned his hair blue.  The laughing smile that had lit up the boy’s face made her heart ache. 

 

When Leo said it was time for them to go, Jenny couldn’t help but pull the little boy into her arms.  She whispered that he would be going home soon and to behave for Leo.  Tony asked her why she was crying and Jenny just shook her head, saying it was nothing he needed to worry about.  He wouldn’t be able to understand how terribly sorry she was for doing this to him.

 

Jenny stood out on the stoop, waving goodbye as Leo drove away with a freshly clothed, blonde-haired Tony Stark.

 

 

**XxXxXxXxXx      A     xXxXxXxXxXx      O       xXxXxXxXxXx    N     xXxXxXxXxXxX**

 

 

The boy was quiet, hadn’t said a single word since Leo began the long drive to Boston.  Jenny had made some sandwiches for them and there was a juice box for the boy but he hadn’t touched either.

 

Leo felt bad for doing this to the kid, but they needed the money. It hadn’t been his intention to kidnap the boy.  He had just been trying to see if the boy was lost.  But when the boy had said his name…well, all his drug-hazy mind had seen were dollar signs.  Jenny had just found out she was pregnant and his job wasn’t going all that great and he was behind on paying rent for the house and…god, he just really needed the money! Kidnapping the Stark child had seemed like a simple enough way to get said money.  Everyone in the world knew how rich the Starks were.

 

What Leo hadn’t counted on was Howard Stark being a complete bastard.  What kind of father didn’t even _try_ to get their kid back?  Leo shook his head, wondering if maybe he wasn’t doing the boy a favor.  Maybe it would be best if the kid wasn’t returned to the Starks, maybe it would be better if he found a new family in Boston.  Because man, Leo felt bad for the kid, having such a shitty dad.

 

 About an hour away from Boston, Leo pulled over and reached into the glove box.  He took out the fresh needle from his pocket and then went to get the boy from the back seat.

 

Filling the needle up with a little Dilaudid, Leo hoped that it would keep the kid loopy enough that he couldn’t immediately tell whoever found him what had happened.  Leo frowned when he was allowed to inject the Dilaudid into the boy’s arm without the kid even asking him what he was doing.  This was the strangest little kid, ever.

 

Leo got back into the car and continued the drive to Boston.  His eyes darted to the rearview mirror every once and a while to check on the boy who was now passed out in the back.  When signs for Boston started popping up, Leo sighed with relief.  He had grown up in Boston and knew the area pretty well.  He hoped that the youth home from his old neighborhood was still there.

 

Leo smiled when he saw it was and hastily pulled over in front.  He retrieved the boy from the back, wrapping him in a large blanket and then quickly strode over to the front door.  The boy’s breathing was a little shallow and Leo worried that he might have given the boy too big of a dose.  Shaking his head, Leo told himself the boy would be fine.

 

Depositing the boy on the front stoop, Leo gave the boy one last whispered apology.  Leo really was sorry he had made such a stupid mistake and taken the boy, but he couldn’t go back in time.  He just told himself that the boy would find his way back home, he would be fine, and now, Leo had his own family to worry about.

 

**XxXxXxXxXx      A     xXxXxXxXxXx      O       xXxXxXxXxXx    N     xXxXxXxXxXxX**

 

 

Nurse Bethany startled when she heard a tiny whimper come from the bed.  When she looked over, she gasped when she saw the little boy squirming around.  He had been in a coma for two weeks now and the doctors hadn’t been too confident he was going to wake up.

 

When the director from a youth home had brought the boy in, the child had been unconscious.  The doctors had run some tests and found a high level of Dilaudid in his system.  That combined with the head injury the boy had led to a not-so-good prognosis for him.

 

“Hi, Honey,” the nurse spoke softly as the boy blinked his eyes open.  “Would you like to sit up?”  The boy nodded slowly and Bethany helped him prop his tiny body up against the pillows.  She retrieved a cup of water for him and held the cup as he took tiny sips through the straw.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

The boy let out a huge yawn and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.  “Sleepy.”

 

Bethany smiled sympathetically, knowing he must feel very groggy.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The nurse waited for an answer, but all the boy did was frown.  “I…” After a long moment the boy looked back up at Bethany with big watery eyes.  “I can’t remember.”

 

Bethany smiled at him, trying to keep him calm but she was very worried by the answer.  “That’s alright.  I’m going to go get a doctor and maybe he can help us out, okay?”  She waited for the boy to nod before leaving to go find a doctor.

 

The next two hours were filled with a barrage of questions aimed at the boy and numerous tests.  By the end, the boy was left exhausted and the doctor and nurse left him in the room as he fell back asleep.

 

“So what do you think, Dr. Zu?” Bethany asked once they were in the hallway. 

 

“His head injury is healing nicely and the MRI didn’t show anything to be too concerned about.  His vitals are all okay and he seems fine, physically, now that he’s awake,” the doctor informed her.

 

“And his memory?”

 

Dr. Zu shook his head, a worried frown pulling at his lips.  “I’m afraid he’s lost basically all of his autobiographical memory.  He knows objects and words and ideas perfectly well, better than most children his age, actually.  But he doesn’t remember his name, where he’s from, who his parents are, or even if he has parents…”

 

A moment of heavy silence fell over the two before the nurse asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue ever since the boy woke up.

 

“So what’s going to happen to him?”

 

Dr. Zu heaved a weary sigh, massaging his jaw thoughtfully.  “He’ll stay here for another day or two so we can make sure he’s okay.  Hopefully his memory returns during that time, but I’m afraid that unless someone comes to claim him, he’ll be put into the system.  And considering no one has even reported a missing child fitting his description, the chances of someone claiming him are very slim.”

 

The pair stood there talking for a few more minutes, both expressing their concerns for the unknown boy and wondering what kind of life he was fated to now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important Notes:
> 
> 1\. So first chapter pretty much revolves around Tony's kidnapping and the implied abuse, and I know that it was sad and possibly depressing...but that's not really how the rest of the story is going to be. This story will be focused on how Tony still manages to meet the Avengers and become a part of their dysfunctional family.
> 
> 2\. What do I mean by alternate Starkline? Basically, it wasn't Howard that helped make Steve a supersoldier; it was Howard's father. Howard still met Steve, but he was just a kid at the time. Subsequently, Tony is only a teenager in modern times, whereas the rest of the Avengers are their normal ages.
> 
>    
> 3\. Small Canon Divergences  
> a) The Avengers are gathered together at SHIELD to work as a probationary task force. They have been working together for a little over a year at this point.  
> b) Thor was not trapped back in Asgard. He was able to come back to earth.  
> 


	2. Breach In Security

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson is sent on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do I mean by alternate Starkline? Basically, it wasn't Howard that helped make Steve a supersoldier; it was Howard's father. Howard still met Steve, but he was just a kid at the time. Subsequently, Tony is only a teenager in modern times, whereas the rest of the Avengers are their normal ages.
> 
>  
> 
> Edited: 3/23/13

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Agent Phil Coulson rubbed his eyes tiredly as he flipped through a mission report from a junior field agent. Rolling his eyes, he wondered what had happened to the writing skills of trainees these days.  The current report he was reading looked like it was written in some archaic Sanskrit-type language, penmanship horrendous.  And that was being generous.  A SHIELD agent shouldn’t _just_ know how to kill someone with a pen; they also need to be able to write with one.

 

Coulson took a sip of his coffee and cringed when he realized it had gone cold.  Glancing back down at the report, Coulson shook his head in disgust.  He rose to his feet, deciding he would much rather go get a fresh cup of coffee than finish reading the sad excuse for a mission report.

 

 Weaving his way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprised the underground levels of SHIELD headquarters, Coulson strode determinedly towards the break room in search of fresh coffee.  When he got there, he found Dr. Foster sitting at a table with her assistant, Darcy Lewis.  He raised an eyebrow at the overly large coffee mug sitting in front of Dr. Foster but knew better than to make a comment.  Dr. Foster had a caffeine addiction worse than anyone Coulson had ever met and could get as angry as a mother bear if someone threatened her relationship with coffee.

 

“Dr. Foster,” Coulson nodded hello and got a bleary eyed glare in return.  “Ms. Lewis,” Coulson started as he turned around to fix himself a cup of coffee with precise movements.  “Agent Romanoff tells me you got yet another junior agent demoted back to the training program.”  Turning to lean back against the counter, Coulson was not surprised in the slightest to find an unrepentant grin lighting up Darcy’s face.

 

“Well, if the guy can’t follow a simple order like ‘Don’t ogle my chest,’ then how can you expect him to listen to the more difficult orders SHIELD might give him?  If you ask me, I think I should be getting paid some sort of reward for ferreting out all the subpar agents,” Darcy proposed.

 

“Yes, well I guess it is a good thing no one asked you,” Coulson responded blandly.  “Although, I do have to say that you are getting very good at handling that taser,” Coulson hid his smile by taking a sip of his coffee.  He turned his head when the door swung open to reveal a junior agent.

 

“Agent Coulson, sir, I…uh” the junior agent stuttered to a stop when his eyes swept to the side and saw one Darcy Lewis.  Darcy grinned evilly when she saw the agent go pale, waving her fingers delightedly in the face of his terror.  Her sadistic tendencies were quite amusing, but not conducive to the junior agent passing on whatever message he had for Coulson.

 

Heaving a sigh, Coulson decided to take pity on the junior agent and cleared his throat lightly.  “Yes?”

 

The junior agent tore his wide eyes from Darcy and fidgeted under Coulson’s unimpressed gaze.  “Director Fury would like to see you in his office, sir.”

 

“Understood,” Coulson said as a clear dismissal, lips twitching in amusement when the junior agent made a hasty retreat.

 

“I love it when the plebes piss their pants,” Darcy snickered outright.

 

Coulson rolled his eyes and pushed off the counter.  “Try not to send any more of said ‘plebes’ to medical; the nurses are getting annoyed with the amount of ice packs being used to treat abused groins.”

 

“No promises!” Darcy yelled after Coulson as he left the break room.  Coulson shook his head at Darcy’s antics before setting out to locate Director Fury. 

 

His journey took him five stories deeper underground and past eight different security checkpoints.  Sometimes Coulson wondered if maybe it was just a little excessive how much Fury worried about security…but being paranoid was probably what allowed Fury to survive in this world of subterfuge as long as he had, so Coulson thought it was probably a good thing in the end.

 

When Coulson arrived at Fury’s office, he rapped his knuckles lightly against the heavy door and waited for the sharp ‘Come in’ barked by Fury before entering. Maria Hill stood at attention behind Director Fury while he skimmed over a file.

 

“Sir, you wanted to see me.”

 

Fury looked up from the file on his desk, mouth set in his customary frown.  “Yes, I have a task for you.”  He held his hand out over his shoulder and Agent Hill slid one of the files from the stack she was holding into his waiting fingers.  “We have recently stumbled upon a breach in security.”

 

Coulson raised a questioning eyebrow.  “Stumbled upon?”

 

Eyes narrowed in a frustrated glare, Fury handed the file to Coulson.  “Unfortunately, yes,” he growled in aggravation.  “Someone has been hacking into SHIELD’s systems for a few months now, and would have continued doing so unnoticed if not for the fact that he was caught in our systems during a mandatory, system wide lock-down he didn’t know about.”

 

Coulson’s eyes skimmed the very limited intelligence gathered on the hacker and frowned in concern.  “This isn’t much to go on.  If we know he’s infiltrated the systems, why are we having such a hard time keeping him out now?”

 

“He never uses the same entry point twice,” Agent Hill spoke up.  “He blasts through one firewall, we counteract and put up more security, he breaches somewhere else.  This game of tag has been going on for a few weeks now and the techs are getting worried seeing as how everything they try barely even slows him down.”  Coulson could hear the irritation in Hill’s voice, her words clipped.

 

“So what exactly do you want me to do?”  Coulson knew he had many skills, but he was self-aware enough to realize that he was not capable of outsmarting a cunning computer hacker at his own game.  Computers weren’t really his expertise, unless he wanted to use it as a literal weapon, of course.  There were plenty of ways he could utilize the computer as a blunt weapon to neutralize someone…

 

“Well,” Fury pushed his chair back, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at Coulson.  “The little information we _do_ have tells us he’s working out of the Greater Boston area, but he’s using public computers in stores or libraries or wherever.  What I need you to do is be on-site in Massachusetts so that when the techs set up a little trap for him and locate which computer he’s using, you can go find him.  Jacobs assures me that they will be discrete enough in backtracking him so that you have enough time to get wherever he is before he realizes what’s going on.”

 

 “Is there any particular reason that another agent can’t do this?  Or even the local police?”  If it was just a collection, then another agent should be able to handle such a simple task.

 

“I want this done in-house.  This bastard has been dancing circles around our best and brightest for weeks now and that doesn’t sit too well with me.  It’s not just a simple snatch and grab.  I want you to observe the mark first: track him, see where he lives, who he’s in contact with, why he’s in my fucking systems,” Fury growled. 

 

Coulson nodded his head in quiet acceptance.  “When am I heading out?”

 

“As soon as you can.”

 

Coulson was driving out of SHIELD headquarters and headed towards Massachusetts within the hour.

 

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“Has anyone seen our favorite handy-dandy handler around?” Clint asked as he slid into the seat next to Bruce. 

 

The team was gathered in the canteen for lunch, but Coulson wasn’t there like usual.  It was their designated hour and only a select few of SHIELD personnel, like Dr. Foster and Darcy Lewis, were allowed in the canteen at the same time as the Avengers.  It would be too much of a strain on the kitchen otherwise.  Thor and Steve each ate enough food for six SHIELD agents, and that wasn’t even a snack for Bruce after he had gone through a transformation.  Those left him _starving_.

 

“Director Fury sent him out to collect some hacker who’s been infiltrating SHIELD’s systems,” Darcy offered in the span of silence that followed Clint’s question.

 

“How is it that you always know what’s going on with everyone?” Clint asked in wonder.  He strongly admired her ability to pick up intel.

 

Darcy leaned forward in a conspiring manner, “I have eyes and ears _everywhere_.”

 

“And by that she means she has beat all of the junior agents into submission and made them her sniveling slaves.  They do whatever she wants them to do and tell her whatever she wants to know,” Jane explained, tone implying her disapproval of Darcy’s wickedness.

 

“Hey,” Darcy said, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive manner.  “You can’t blame me for whipping those cowards into shape.  They would flounder without a master to obey.”

 

“Isn’t Director Fury supposed to be their um… master?” Bruce questioned as he cleaned his glasses on his shirt.

 

“Submission?  Masters?  When did SHIELD become a cover-up for a BDSM training camp?” Clint asked around a mouth-full of food, earning himself a smack to the back of the head from Natasha for bad table manners.  Everyone ignored the indignant yelp he let out.

 

“Well,” Darcy started with a contemplative look on her face.  “Fury does wear a lot of leather…”

 

“Ugh,” Clint groaned, pushing his food away from him.  “You have ruined my appetite with the image you are painting there, you vile woman.”

 

Darcy grinned happily at the various reactions from the Avengers.  Bruce was, sadly, as calm-faced as ever, but Steve was trying and failing to hide the embarrassed blushes coloring his cheeks.  Jane was explaining to Thor in furious whispers that he was _not_ to reveal any of his recently obtained information on BDSM…why? because some things aren’t supposed to leave the bedroom, that’s why!  And Natasha was ignoring the immaturity in favor of a much more interesting trail of conversation.

 

“So the hacker…” Natasha prompted, knowing Darcy would share whatever information she knew.  Unfortunately, Darcy didn’t know much else.

 

“Sorry, all I know is that there has been a hacker poking around SHIELD’s systems going on two months now and Fury is _not_ happy.”  Understatement of the century; everyone could hear the _do not approach Fury unless you have a death wish_ warning behind Darcy’s words.

 

“Two months?” Steve asked, shocked that it had been going on so long.  His reaction was on par with the rest of the team.  SHIELD was one of the best-kept secrets of the U.S. government, so the fact that someone had discovered SHIELD even existed was a feat in itself.  If that someone had then infiltrated SHIELD’s networks _and_ been doing so for so long…well, it was a little bit mind-boggling.

 

Darcy bobbed her head up and down, “Yup.”

 

“You think they’re going to try and enlist him?” Jane asked Natasha and Clint.

 

“Depends…” Clint shrugged.

 

“On?”

 

“Whether or not Coulson can calm Fury enough to consider it before Fury shoots the guy,” Clint snickered.

 

“Fury’s not the only one this guy will have to be worried about,” an aggravated voice piped up.  Everyone turned to welcome Maria Hill to the table.

 

“Who else does he have to worry about?”

 

“Pretty much everyone in the tech department, especially Jacobs,” Hill informed them.  Jacobs was the head of the Cyber-Subterfuge Team. “Fury has been breathing down his neck for a month now and Jacobs has been breathing down his subordinates’ necks in turn.  Suffice to say, the underlings are getting severely pissed off because there is no one for them to take their frustrations out on.”

 

“Until Coulson brings in the hacker, you mean.”

 

Hill nodded, her mouth drawn into a grim line.  “In all honesty, this hacker has caused enough grief that I’m not entirely sure Fury will be against letting the techs get their hands on the guy.”

 

“Why do we keep referring to the hacker as a guy?  It is just as possible that it could be a girl,” Darcy piped up, tone indignant.

 

“You’re right, but saying guy is easier than saying ‘guy or girl’ every time we refer to the hacker,” Steve tried to placate Darcy before she worked herself up into a tizzy.  Unfortunately, Darcy had been feeling bored and decided giving the Avengers a lesson on gender equality would be delightfully entertaining.

 

“I’m just saying that in today’s society it is woefully unjust that….”

 

Everyone at the table let out a collective groan as Darcy launched into her tirade.  An hour later, the hacker had earned some new enemies who did _not_ enjoy the feminist diatribe they were forced to listen to because of ~~the guy~~ the hacker.

 

 

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“Everything all set?”

 

“Yes, sir.  If he hacks into our systems today, we’ll be ready for him.  The coordinates of his location will be automatically sent to the GPS in your vehicle and the IP address will be sent to your phone,” Jacobs sounded confident that things would run smoothly and Coulson really hoped he was right.

 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to keep all lines of communication open.  Agent out.”  Coulson ended the call and then settled into the stiff desk chair. 

 

The satellite-office he was stationed at in Roxbury was much quieter than SHIELD headquarters in New York.  The agents stationed here were primarily involved in research and thus didn’t move with the same sense of urgency as the threat-response teams at headquarters.  Coulson brought some files with him to review while he waited for the trap to be sprung.  He was wearing simple blue jeans and a button-down that would help him blend in, with a go-bag at his side so he would be able to respond quickly and efficiently.

 

Six hours later, just after three in the afternoon, the alarm on Coulson’s phone went off and the coordinates arrived a second later.  He was out the door and in his SUV within a minute.  The SUV was an older model, less ostentatious which was a must for surveillance, but the inside had all the latest technology.  As soon as the engine roared to life, the GPS popped up with his destination: the Mugar Memorial Library at Boston University.

 

Interesting.

 

The BU campus was six miles from the SHIELD satellite-office.  Flipping the lights on his SUV, Coulson was able to weave his way through traffic at a much faster speed and arrived on the outskirts of campus in ten minutes. 

 

Coulson called campus security en route and was advised to park in Lot H where they would send out some officers to meet him.  As soon as he arrived, he spotted his escorts.  Hopping out of the SUV, Coulson offered the officers his ID badge and a firm handshake.

 

“Agent Coulson, FBI.”  It was easier gettting local police to cooperate when they thought they were dealing with one of the more _familiar_ national security divisions.  SHIELD wasn't technically supposed to impersonate the other security divisions, but Director Fury had little regard for following protocol as long as it brought about results.

 

“That's awesome,” the younger of the two whispered in an awed voice, getting a withering glare from the senior officer beside him.

 

“Can we get going?” Coulson prodded, turning his body towards their cruiser to get them moving.

 

The senior officer took the rather obvious hint and led him towards the patrol car, waving Coulson into the passenger seat.  The younger officer slid into the backseat.

 

“Should we be issuing a campus-wide alert?”  The older of the two asked in a gruff voice.

 

“No, there is no threat to any of the students or campus personnel.  I’ve been sent to collect a computer hacker that is currently using one of the computers in Mugar.  I’d actually prefer it if you don’t accompany me in.  I need to attract as little attention as possible.”

 

The older one glanced over, seeming hesitant to agree to Coulson’s request.  Coulson knew that he was concerned with campus safety, but Coulson really needed to maintain his anonymity.

 

“I promise, no harm will come to anyone.  This is digital warfare, nothing else.”

 

The officer nodded his acquiescence just as he pulled the cruiser to a stop in front of the library.  “You can go to the IT Help Desk; they’re expecting you.”

 

Coulson said a quick thanks and then strode into the library.  He easily spotted the Help Desk and flashed his badge to the woman waiting there.  Pulling out his phone, Coulson retrieved the IP address Jacobs had sent him.  He rattled out the numbers and scanned his surroundings as she identified where that particular computer was located.

 

There were a lot of students milling around, arms laden with textbooks.  Coulson wondered how old the hacker was going to end up being.  It was possible it could be a professor using library resources, but Coulson couldn’t spot anyone older than graduate student age.

 

“Sir?  I’ve got the location here,” the woman said, drawing Coulson’s attention.  Stepping into line behind her, Coulson followed the woman along the sidewall.  Leading him over to the reference section on the first floor, she stopped a good few meters away from the smaller group of computer stations. 

 

“It’s that one over there.  The guy with the dark blue hoodie,” she spoke softly.  Coulson narrowed his eyes as he studied the target.  The guy’s back was to Coulson, head ducked down and hands typing away furiously at the keyboard.

 

“Should I be scared here?” The woman asked, attempting humor, but her voice was strained with nerves.  Coulson offered her a small smile, shaking his head.

 

“No.  He’s no threat, just happens to be poking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”  Coulson’s eyes darted around, seeing where it would be best to remain out of sight so he could study the target.  “I’m just going to keep an eye on him.  You can return to your desk.”

 

The woman looked back at the hacker nervously before making her retreat, heels clicking along the floor.  Coulson walked over to one of the shelves, pretending to look for a book, but his eyes remained steadfast on the guy.  A few minutes later he saw the guy’s head snap up, his hair dark and wild.  His fingers flew faster over the keyboard and he started shaking his head.

 

Coulson felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and quickly retrieved it, answering in a quiet voice.

 

“Coulson.”

 

“Please tell me you’ve got him,” Jacobs said, voice urgent.  “He realized we’ve tracked him.  Do you have him?”

 

The guy was throwing stuff into his backpack, pushing away from the computer and getting to his feet.  Finally turning around, the guy offered Coulson the first glimpse at the face of the ingenious hacker. 

 

…More interesting.

 

The guy, boy really, looked about sixteen years old.  A _kid_ was outsmarting SHIELD’s techs. 

 

“Coulson?!  Do you have him?”

 

Coulson cringed, already thinking of how horribly Jacobs and his underlings were going to take this.  It was _not_ going to be pretty.  “…Yeah, Jacobs.  I’ve got him.”

 

Shadowing the kid’s movement, Coulson followed him back out into the sunlight.

 

“Thank god,” Jacobs breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Coulson shook his head, fully aware that Jacobs would not be feeling _relief_ when he found out a kid, who looked barely old enough to drive, had been running circles around him for months.

 

“I’ve got to go,” Coulson said before ending the call.

 

Intrigued to find out who this kid was, Coulson tailed the target as he left the BU campus and hopped on a bus.  The target jumped between three different bus lines until he ended up in East Boston, hoofing it to a more decrepit part of town.

 

Coulson really had no idea what was going on.  This kid was not what he was expecting to find.  At all.  A brilliant undergrad or graduate student?  Sure.  A smart, wily professor?  More than likely.  A scrawny kid from East Boston?  Definitely not.  But that’s what he had, so he would complete his mission as was expected of him.

 

Calling up the satellite-office, Coulson had them send an agent to pick up his SUV from the BU campus and drop it off to him.  And then he proceeded to follow the mark around East Boston.  To a small diner where the kid ordered a cup of coffee and a BLT, grinning brightly at the aging waitress who gave him a free slice of pie.  To a second-hand electronics store where the kid bought an assortment of seemingly random objects that he hastily shoved into his backpack.  To the youth center where he played a pick-up game of basketball and used his sharp tongue to distract his opponents so he could score.  To the shady apartment building where the kid finally ended his day.

 

It was disappointing that Coulson hadn’t really obtained any information of importance.  The adolescent seemed normal enough.  And that was perhaps why Coulson felt more perturbed than ever before.  Now it wasn’t just a question of _how_ a kid could hack into SHIELD…but more importantly, _why_ was he doing it?

 

Heaving a sigh, Coulson settled in for a long, uncomfortable night in a car seat. Tomorrow he would supervise the set up of a complete surveillance team on the target. But tonight, he would have to make do by himself.  He hadn’t done a car stakeout since he was a junior agent.  Sipping at the coffee mug he had obtained, Coulson opened up a file and got back to work in an attempt to keep himself occupied.

 

Well after midnight, Coulson noticed movement at the entryway to the kid’s apartment.  Pulling out his binoculars, Coulson swore softly when he saw the kid heaving two duffel bags out of the his apartment.  Apparently the kid had noticed being tailed at some point.  Shouldn’t have been surprising, the kid was smart.  Coulson had erroneously underestimated him just because the kid was…well, a _kid_.

 

Quickly exiting his car, Coulson followed the mark as he tried to make his escape.  The street was dark, the moon offering little light.  Blinking his eyes to get them to adjust more quickly, Coulson saw the kid duck into an alleyway and followed after him.  When Coulson rounded the corner, he swiftly dropped to his knees to avoid the blow aimed at his head.

 

“What the fuck?!  Why are you following me?!” The boy yelled, trying to land a punch and failing horribly.  Kid might have smarts, but his fighting skills were not impressive in the slightest.

 

Ignoring the teen’s outraged yelling, Coulson delivered a swift hit to the side of his neck and caught the kid as he slumped to the ground, unconscious.  Coulson heaved the kid into his arms and made his way back to the abandoned SUV.  He settled the teenager in the backseat and looked around to make sure the noise had not drawn any unwanted attention.  Everything was quiet.

 

Walking to the back of the SUV, Coulson retrieved some restraints he could use to tie the target up.  He took the time to make sure the restraints were strong but not too tight.  He didn’t want to cause any unnecessary discomfort.

 

Coulson went to retrieve the two duffels the kid had dropped and threw them into the trunk.  Mouth pulled into a grim line, Coulson cautiously approached the apartment.   Using the dark shadows to obscure his movements, Coulson peered through the window and saw a small one-bedroom layout. Not seeing anyone inside, Coulson went around to the door and picked the lock.

 

The apartment was cramped.  Papers and trash were strewn across the floor.  There was a mattress laid out in the middle of the room, thin and lumpy.  A slight scent of mildew hung in the air.

 

Wandering through the mess, Coulson looked for any signs about who this teenager was.  There was no evidence of anyone else having lived there.  No family?  He rifled through some bills and letters left on the kitchen counter.  Riley Baker.  Kyle Mont.  Bryan Graham.  A few others.  Acquaintances?  Contacts?  And finally there were a bunch of gadgets piled onto the bed, wires sticking out everywhere in a haphazard mess.

 

Not able to get much information from the meager items scattered across the apartment, Coulson headed back out into the night.  He went to the back of the SUV and rifled through the two duffel bags.  What he found was…surprising.

 

There were the customary items of a runaway- clothes, a book, bathroom items- but there were also some items that seemed more appropriate in an agents’ go-bag, like his.  Extra cell phones, lots of cash, and numerous identifications… _fake_ identifications.  There were driver’s licenses and student IDs for MIT, BU, Harvard, Boston College all with the kid’s picture on them.  And they had the names Riley Baker, Kyle Mont, and Bryan Graham.  The same names as the bills and letters inside the apartment.  So this kid had aliases.  Lots of them. 

 

Which begged the question…who was this kid, really?

 

Sliding into the driver’s seat of the SUV, Coulson’s eyes darted to rearview mirror where he could see the target still unconscious in the backseat.  Rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration, Coulson got his cell back out and placed a call to headquarters.  When he was finally transferred to Director Fury, Coulson tried to prepare himself for the conversation to come.

 

“Sir, we have a slight problem…”

 

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Comfortable in his customary suit once again- yes, he had taken the time to change back into his suit- Coulson was enjoying the rather uneventful drive back to headquarters.  Unfortunately, about an hour from his destination, Coulson heard a groan emit from the backseat.  The target was waking.  Loudly.

 

“What…” a panicked voice started up.  “What the hell is going on?!  Who the fuck are you?!  Where are you taking me?!” And now the voice was just mad.

 

Coulson’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror where he met the kid’s outraged glare.  “Everything will be explained to you soon enough,” Coulson informed him.

 

Fury decided that since Coulson had failed to get any information from watching the hacker, they’d just have to interrogate him.  He hadn’t seemed too concerned about being able to get the information they wanted.  Then again, Director Fury hadn’t seemed too concerned by the fact that Coulson had effectively kidnapped a minor either. 

 

“Fuck that.  I want to know _now_!” The kid fumed, kicking his legs into the back of Coulson’s seat and jarring the agent forward.

 

“If you don’t stop that, then I’ll have to knock you unconscious again,” Coulson said tersely.  He would not risk his life - or the unknown kid's life - in a car accident just because the teenager couldn't control himself.  For someone smart enough to hack into SHIELD, the kid certainly wasn't too smart about considering his own safety.

 

The threat got the angered teenager to stop kicking Coulson’s seat, but he continued to rant and yell at Coulson.  Twenty minutes and one pounding headache later, Coulson pulled off the freeway and went to the back of the SUV again.  Grabbing the role of duct tape, Coulson tore off a piece and went to silence the angry tirade.

 

The kid shook his head and tried his hardest to avoid being silenced, but he really didn’t have much of a chance up against the experienced SHIELD agent.  Duct tape in place, Coulson settled back into the driver’s seat and started up the engine.

 

Phil Coulson was a man who thought of solutions, and he felt that he had solved that problem fairly well.  Glancing in the rearview mirror and seeing the enraged glower the kid was giving him, Coulson had a feeling that the youngster did not agree.  Shrugging his shoulders, Coulson settled his gaze back on the rode and appreciated the near-silence he could now complete his mission in.  The agent didn’t think that things were going to go any easier for the kid once he was brought to SHIELD. In a way, Coulson kind of felt bad for him since the boy certainly hadn’t made any friends among SHIELD personnel.  So Coulson felt sympathy about what the kid would soon have to deal with.

  
Another kick bounced Coulson's head forward harshly.  Okay, so maybe he only felt a _little_ sympathy.

 

 


	3. That's An Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let me introduce AON...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 3/23/13

Pulling into the vehicle annex, Coulson sighed in relief to finally be back at headquarters.  The drive had been much more stressful than he would have liked, but now he could dump his burden off in Fury’s lap and have the Director deal with him.  Hopefully.

 

Coulson’s shoes tapped across the cement as he strode to the back of the SUV.  He opened the trunk and retrieved the two duffels, studiously ignoring the muted grumbles coming from the teenager as the kid anxiously looked around the new surroundings.

 

“Hey,” Coulson called out to a pair of junior agents idling around.  “Come here and take these to the labs.  Tell them to start going through everything in there.  I want to know every possible piece of information that can be gleaned from these objects.  There are driver’s licenses in there too, I want notes on every activity carried out by those aliases.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” one junior agent took the duffels and marched off.

 

Turning to the second junior agent, Coulson motioned towards the backseat.  “Bring the guy in the backseat to interrogation room C.” 

 

Coulson was about to go seek out Director Fury and inform him that the hacker had been brought in, but a pained grunt had him swerving around to the SUV.   The sight that met his eyes was sad, but no entirely surprising.  The kid had already given Coulson the impression that he was _not_ going to make his stay at SHIELD easy on anyone.  But still…

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Coulson muttered under his breath, swiftly going to neutralize the boy, again.  The junior agent was on the ground, hands cupping his groin as he groaned in pain.  A few feet away, the kid was crawling along the ground, trying to escape.

 

Once he reached the scrambling kid, Coulson leaned down to grab the back of the boy’s hoodie.  He hauled the kid upwards, deftly dodging the pathetic kicks the kid tried to hit him with.  The boy continued to struggle in an attempt to get away so Coulson delivered another pinch to his neck to render him unconscious.  The kid was much easier to handle that way. 

 

Looking back to the now recovering junior agent, Coulson raised a brow in annoyance. “Since this was obviously too difficult a task for you, how about you go tell Director Fury the hacker is here and to meet me in interrogation room C.”

 

The junior agent nodded frantically as he scrambled to his feet, awkwardly striding out of the garage.  Looking upwards, Coulson wondered what he had done to deserve being punished with these ridiculous situations.  After he was through with his moment of self-pity, he heaved the boy over his shoulder.

 

Coulson carried his package down the SHIELD hallways, getting some nervous and some curious glances from other agents he passed by.  Resolutely ignoring all looks, Coulson met Director Fury and Maria Hill down by the interrogation rooms. 

 

“I brought you a present, sir,” Coulson grunted as he deposited the boy into a chair, making sure the kid was balanced before stepping back.

 

Turning around, Coulson assessed their reactions.  Agent Hill looked a little bewildered, apparently not having been informed by Director Fury that the hacker had turned out to be nothing more than a kid. 

 

Surprise was likely to be the standard reaction once news spread about the hacker’s age, swiftly followed by annoyance and indignation.  The fact that a teenager had outsmarted the Cyber-Subterfuge Team would not be good for the group’s reputation within SHIELD.

 

“You’re sure that’s him?” Hill asked doubtfully.

 

Coulson shrugged his shoulders.  “It’s the guy who was on the computer Jacobs told me was hacking into the systems…so as long as Jacobs did his job correctly, then yes.”

 

Director Fury’s reaction was to scowl angrily at the unconscious boy and then turn to Coulson with an order.  “I want to know how a _child_ outsmarted my best computer techs,” he bit out, clearly frustrated by the circumstances.  Coulson had already informed Fury of the hacker’s young age, but seeing it in person was probably driving that fact home just a little bit harder.

 

“M mmm mm mmmm.”

 

The trio turned to face the teenager who was slowly blinking his eyes open.  Coulson was impressed he had recovered so quickly.  The boy was definitely resilient.  Director Fury reached a hand out, and lacking any sympathy, ripped the duct tape from the kid’s mouth.

 

“Son of a bitch!” The kid cursed, shaking his head as he tried to fight through the pain.

 

“What was that you were saying before?” Fury growled out.

 

The kid leveled a glower on the Director, nostrils flaring as he tried to get his temper under control.  “I said I’m not a child.”

 

Fury snorted at the kid’s answer and raised a mocking brow.  “Is that so?”

 

“Yeah,” the kid sneered, “that’s so.”

 

Looking to Fury and Agent Hill, Coulson waved a hand in the kid’s direction and sighed.  “Do you see what I have been dealing with?”

 

“What…you…what….” the kid sputtered. “What _you’ve_ been dealing with?!  Um…excuse me, am I missing something here?  Or am _I_ not the one who has been kidnapped and held against his will?”

 

Coulson couldn’t hold back his amusement when Agent Hill stepped forward, swiped the duct tape from Fury’s hand, and reapplied it over the kid’s mouth.  He chuckled heartily at the furious glare the boy was shooting their way, promising retribution.  He was like an enraged kitten, pathetically endearing with his pitiful threats.

 

When Coulson looked back at Director Fury, he was a little bit shocked by what he saw.  Director Fury was evaluating the kid with narrowed eyes, but the customary anger was lacking.  Instead, there was an intense sort of assessment going on, like Director Fury was looking for something in the boy’s face.

 

“Sir?”

 

Fury shook his head, pulling himself out of whatever _that_ was and waved a dismissive hand in the teenager’s direction.  “Coulson, question him.”  He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.  “I want answers!” Fury shouted over his shoulder as Agent Hill followed behind like a shadow.

 

A snort of disbelief came from the boy and Coulson turned to stare blandly at him.  Moving to pull the other chair out, Coulson sat down with a sigh, knowing this was not going to be easy.  The agent leaned forward and took the duct tape off once more, in a much gentler fashion.  It didn’t earn him any brownie points with the youngster.

 

“Fuck you, I’m not telling you anything,” the kid spat as soon as he was free to talk.  He squirmed in his seat, trying to work his restraints loose, but Coulson knew he wouldn’t be able to shimmy out of them.

 

“This will all go much easier if you cooperate.”

 

“Cooperate?  Why the hell should I cooperate with the bastard that _kidnapped_ me?”  Kid had a good point, but Coulson would still need some answers.  The agent studied the boy's stubborn glare closely and decided they would probably get answers a lot faster if someone else questioned the kid. 

 

“Okay…” Coulson rubbed at the bridge of his nose, headache swiftly returning the longer he was forced to deal with this entire mess.  “Would you answer questions from someone else?”

 

The teenager shrugged, “I’m not promising anything.”  His eyes swept up and down Coulson’s body in judging assessment.  “But I sure as fuck ain’t talking to a Suit.” 

 

“Fair enough,” Coulson nodded his head, getting to his feet.  He moved towards the kid and untied the restraints holding his arms captive.  “Sit here and behave,” he ordered before exiting the interrogation room. 

 

“Yeah, okay old man,” he heard the kid mutter under his breath.  Coulson ignored the sarcastic comment and locked the door behind him.

 

He glanced down at his wristwatch.  10 o’clock.  Barring any missions, the two people he sought would probably be at the shooting range.  With his next destination in mind, Coulson set out to retrieve the best interrogators SHIELD had ever produced, save Coulson himself, of course.

 

 

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“Barton! Romanoff!”

 

The two SHIELD agents swirled around, weapons raised and poised to attack, but when they saw Agent Coulson striding towards them, they relaxed.  As much as a SHIELD agent _could_ relax.

 

“Hey, Coulson!” Clint ambled over as Natasha followed behind at a more sedate pace.  “So did you get the hacker?”  Clint asked as he snapped his bow back into its smaller form.

 

“Yes,” Coulson motioned for them to follow him as he led them away from the shooting range.  “Unfortunately, he isn’t willing to talk to me.”

 

“So the hacker is a guy!” Clint enthused, earning himself a confused look from Coulson and a roll of the eyes from Natasha. 

 

“Wait…” he faltered in his steps for just a second, “did you say him not talking was an issue?” Clint asked, perplexed by Coulson’s comment.  “Coulson, you are one of the scariest interrogators ever,” Clint admitted, tone light but the truth in the words was anything but a joke.  “Just torture it out of him.”  God knows Clint had seen Coulson break much stronger men than this hacker was sure to be.

 

Natasha and Clint narrowed their eyes when they saw the severe set of Coulson’s jaw.  “I… can’t,” Coulson informed them slowly.

 

“Yeah?  Why’s that?”  Clint pushed, wanting to know why Coulson was hesitating.  Their handler had once taken down five enemies with a _spoon_ without flinching.  What could possibly make _Phil_ _Coulson_ cautious?

 

Opening the door to the observation deck of one of the interrogation rooms, Coulson waved them in.  He pointed to the one-way mirror and waited for them to look at the captive.

 

“Because he’s a kid.”

 

Clint stared in shock at the teenager sitting inside the room.  The kid was scanning his surroundings, most likely looking for a way out.  His fingers tapped against the table in random beats, his body twitching with nervous energy.  His eyes were sharp, flashing with intelligence and determination. 

 

“That’s the hacker?” Natasha asked quietly, her tone colored with the barest hint of disbelief.

 

“Yes,” Coulson answered wryly.  “The problem is we don’t know who he is.  He said he isn’t willing to talk to me and I am not willing to risk using more…forceful techniques to get information out of him because he might be a civilian.  A stupidly brilliant civilian, but a civilian nonetheless.”  Coulson turned to appraise the two younger agents.  “That’s why I want you guys to talk to him.  You can use scare tactics,” Coulson allowed, “but don’t actually harm him.”

 

A knock at the door had all three of them turning to watch as a computer tech entered the small room.  “Agent Coulson, sir.  Director Fury told me to deliver this file to you.”

 

Coulson reached out and took the file before dismissing the tech.  Clint watched as the older agent scanned the file he had been given, wondering why Coulson looked to be getting more frustrated after each successive paper he flipped past.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Unfortunately nothing,” Coulson sighed before handing the files over.  “I found some driver’s licenses and student IDs in the kid’s duffel, hoping they would lead me to his real identity, but no luck.  All of the names came back with solid backgrounds, meaning we don’t know which ones are fake.”

 

Clint and Natasha both skimmed over the file themselves before looking to Coulson for orders. 

 

“So what information do you want specifically?”  Natasha asked.

 

Coulson looked back at the one-way, studying the kid for a long moment.  “Right now, just get me a name.”

 

The two teammates shared a look before nodding at each other, already knowing how they were going to play this.  “No problem,” Clint grinned as he went to open the door for Natasha.  “It’ll be our pleasure.”

 

 

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“Oh, what do we have here?”  The boy smirked as he watched Clint and Natasha enter the interrogation room.  “Replacements for the Men-in-Black wannabe?”

 

Clint’s lips twitched as he forced himself to swallow the laughter building in his chest.  The kid’s descriptor for Coulson was kind of hilarious, but the kid didn’t need to know Clint thought him entertaining quite so soon.

 

Natasha, either not getting the reference, or more likely, not giving a fuck about it, ignored the comment as she sized up the youngster.  Without preamble, she flung the stack of papers onto the table and let the kid rifle through them. 

 

In all honesty, there wasn’t much to the file.  They didn’t really have shit on the kid.  All the papers did was list the activities he had done under each of his aliases, which weren’t many and none of them illegal, beyond the obvious of course.  But the lack of information about what this kid _did_ wasn’t the real problem though.  No, the real problem was they didn’t know which one of these were aliases and which one was his _real_ identity.  The problem was, they didn’t know _who_ this kid was.

 

“What’s your _real_ name?”  Natasha asked.

 

“I don’t know,” the boy responded mildly as his gaze flickered up to meet hers coolly.

 

Natasha stepped closer, hands coming to rest against the table as she leaned forward to glare at the boy.  “What is your name?”

 

The boy, stupid though it was, bravely leaned forward and sneered at her.  “I said I don’t know.”

 

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

 

“Oh, is English not your first language?  I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” the boy said with feigned sincerity.  “Which word were you having trouble with?  Was it don’t?  Those pesky contractions can be so difficult.”

 

Clint barked out a laugh, wide grin plastered across his face when the kid looked at him begrudgingly.  “I like you,” Clint said brightly, stepping forward and swinging a chair around to sit astride it.  He crossed his arms over the back as he studied the boy.  “Not smart to antagonize Black Widow but I’ll give you props for the snappy comeback.  You’ve got guts.”

 

The kid leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, an unimpressed look on his face.  “What is this, good cop, bad cop?”

 

Clint shook his head, flashing his teeth in a sharp grin.  “Nope, good agent, bad agent.”

 

Eyebrow raised in a mocking manner, the kid waved him on.  “The difference being?”

 

“Well,” Clint started as Natasha pulled a six-inch knife out of her left knee-high boot and started cleaning her fingernails.  “The difference is that in a good cop bad cop scenario, the bad cop is the one that uses those suspiciously-legal-bordering-on-illegal interrogation techniques to get the information needed.  Now in _this_ sort of context, that bad cop becomes the good agent.  Because, as agents, our only mission is to get the intel we need,” Clint leaned forward, “by _any_ means necessary.”

 

Clint’s eyes slid sideways to watch Natasha play with her knife, making a show of wrinkling his nose in distaste.  “See, I’ve never been one for getting up close and personal with my victims.  I like to target them from afar,” Clint continued, turning back to look at the kid. 

 

Clint tried not to show how much respect he had for the boy considering the kid hadn’t pissed his pants yet.  Clint knew plenty of junior agents who would have broken as soon as Natasha _glared_ at them.  But maybe the whole courage thing just went back to the old adage ‘Ignorance is bliss.’

 

“My dislike for getting my hands dirty makes me a _terrible_ choice for interrogations, hence I am the bad agent.”  Natasha stepped forward, eyes as fiery as her flaming hair when she glared at the kid. The only tells about how stressed the boy was could be seen in his dilated pupils and the sweat drop rolling down the side of his neck.  “Widow, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoys torturing her prey if they don’t provide the information she asks for.  So…can you guess what that makes her?”

 

The kid clenched his jaw, dark eyes transfixed on the large serrated knife Natasha was deftly twirling around her fingers.  “The good agent,” the boy bit out tersely, tension thrumming through his body.

 

Clint clapped his hands together, bright smile aimed at the boy.  “See?  I knew you were smart.”  He twisted to the side to look at his partner.  “Didn’t I tell you I thought he’d be a smart one, Widow?”

 

Natasha smirked slightly, eyes sliding sideways to meet Clint’s briefly and share in his amusement at the boy’s courage.  They could both tell the boy was frightened, but he sure as hell was doing a good job at masquerading his terror with daring.  “Yeah, Hawkeye, you did.”

 

“Right,” Clint said, turning back to face the boy.  “So, being the smart kid I know you are, why don’t you answer Widow’s earlier question.”

 

The two agents looked at the boy expectantly as his eyes darted back and forth between the two.  Suffice to say, they were not pleased when he once again gave them nothing. 

 

“I don’t know,” the boy said, holding his hands out to stave off their anger when Natasha tightened her fingers around the hilt of the knife.  “I’m serious!  No joke, I really don’t know!”

 

“How do you not know?”  Clint snapped, all smiles gone as he watched the boy warily.  Different scenarios started flashing through his mind.  Was the boy a sleeper agent?  Did he let himself be captured just to break into SHIELD?  Had they unknowingly invited a threat right into headquarters? Who was this kid?

 

“Um…” the boy stumbled over his words, hands tugging anxiously at his hair in the first show of nerves.  “I was like three or four when I woke up in a hospital in Boston, okay?  I had a head injury and suffered amnesia, lost all my autobiographical memory.  I didn’t have any ID on me and no one ever came to claim me so I was put into the system.  So I seriously don’t know, alright?”

 

Clint glanced to Natasha, trying to get a read on what she thought of the kid’s story.  She was staring at the boy, face blank and giving no hint as to what she was thinking other than the tense lines around her eyes and mouth.  Apparently she was just as frustrated with his answer as Clint was.  Clint thought the story was a little far-fetched, but they didn’t have any evidence to prove the kid was lying either.

 

“What does the government have you down as?”

 

“They don’t,” the boy rushed to explain when both agents narrowed their eyes into unhappy glares at the answer.  “When I ran away from my last foster home three years back I hacked into the Department of Social Services, the Census Bureau, the Social Security Administration, basically any government agency that would have had records on me and wiped myself from the system.  I’ve been living as a ghost since.” 

 

The boy waved his hands in the air, trying to explain himself more clearly.  “Well not completely, but close enough.  I’ve set up a few different aliases just so I could save up some funds…but none of them are going to give you any information.  If you try to backtrack them they’ll come back legit,” he waved to the papers.  “Dead ends.”

 

At the end of his explanation, the boy just sat there and waited to see how they were going to react, dark eyes studying them closely as he looked for threatening signs from the two agents.  Clint wasn’t sure what to think of the kid’s answer though and remained blank faced.

 

It was extremely disconcerting that a kid- who couldn’t have been more than fourteen when he went ghost- could have possibly infiltrated government databases so thoroughly and wiped all traces of ever having existed.  But it was also kind of amazing.  How brilliant did this kid have to be in order to do something like that?  He couldn’t have been more than seventeen now and he was already being considered for SHIELD’s hot-list of potential threats… so Clint guessed very brilliant indeed.

 

“Alright,” Clint said slowly, expressing his slight skepticism but willingness to take the kid’s word for it at present.  “So what do you call yourself then?  I mean you must have some sort of name.”  They needed something other than kid and boy to refer to him as.

 

“AON.”

 

“Aon?”  Clint questioned.  It sounded strange on his tongue, not from any culture he recognized.

 

“AON,” the boy confirmed, “all capitals.  It’s an acronym.  It stands for…” the kid…AON rubbed the back of his neck, seeming more insecure than he had since the pair walked into the room.  “Um…well, it stands for Apropos of Nothing.”

 

…Damn. 

 

That was just _sad_.

 

What kind of kid referred to himself as something that basically meant he had no purpose? 

 

“Really?” Clint asked in a carefully neutral tone.  He could exhibit tact in _some_ situations.  And this situation definitely called for it.

 

The kid just shrugged, tilting his chin up and glaring at Clint, trying to come off challenging but looking more defensive than anything.  “Yeah, really.”

 

Clint looked to Natasha whose eyes had softened, tense lines relaxing just a little, an imperceptible change to anyone but those who knew her best.  She gave a slight nod to the door, a signal that they needed to check-in with Coulson to see how he wanted to proceed. 

 

“Alright,” Clint spoke, casually getting to his feet.  “AON it is.  We need to go talk to our superiors to see what’s going to happen now.  You want anything while you wait?”

 

AON nodded his head enthusiastically.  “A cup of strong coffee would be good.  The suit kidnapped me before I could get my morning Starbucks,” he said with a smirk.

 

Chuckling at the response, Clint nodded at the youngster in approval.  Clint knew this whole situation must have been frightening for AON, but he seemed to be rolling with the punches, quickly adapting to this new situation he found himself in. 

 

“Cup of coffee it is,” Clint confirmed before following Natasha out of the interrogation room.

 

 

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Coulson frowned as he listened to the kid’s frantic explanation, not sure whether or not he should believe the story.  His gut told him the kid was telling the truth, but his mind told him it was too fantastic of a tale.  And then when the kid told Clint his ‘name’ …well, that made an unexpected wave of compassion wash over Coulson.

 

He had a bad habit of picking up ‘strays’ (see: all of the Avengers) and the foreboding sense of dread he felt told the agent he would not be getting rid of this particular stray quite as easily as he had hoped. 

 

Coulson’s eyes remained on the teenager…AON…even after he heard the soft snick of the door opening.  Natasha and Clint let him sort through his thoughts for a bit, but eventually they had to deal with the situation at hand.

 

“Well…” Clint spoke up, never being one to handle silence too well unless on an espionage mission.  “That was interesting.”

 

Coulson huffed a quiet laugh and glanced sideways at the archer.  “Why am I not surprised that you would end up liking the kid?”

 

“Aw, come on Coulson.  The kid is awesome.  He’s got a sharp tongue…”

 

“Like you…” Natasha muttered.

 

“…he get’s himself into tricky situations…”

 

“Like you…”

 

“…but is obviously smart enough to handle said tricky situations.”

 

“Like me."

 

"Hey!" Clint pouted at Natasha, clearly not appreciating her assessment of his ability to handle any trouble he might get himself into.  Natasha just ignored her partner’s indignation and settled a questioning gaze on Coulson.

 

“So what are we going to do?”

 

Coulson sighed, already knowing he was going to have to go see Director Fury about this.  The fact that the kid had no family meant no one would be hounding authorities to find the lost boy.  And without that kind of pressure, Director Fury would be given more freedom to act however he wanted.

 

“I need to go talk to Director Fury,” Coulson informed the pair.  “You two stay here and watch the boy.”

 

“AON,” Clint corrected, tone restrained in a way that showed he clearly didn’t like the boy’s self-proclaimed name all that much. 

 

All three of them knew what it was like not to have a place where they felt they truly belonged.  But SHIELD had given them a purpose.  And if they had never found SHIELD, if they had never found this unlikely group of people they could trust…then maybe they would have turned out much like the boy on the other side of the glass.

 

“AON,” Coulson nodded before turning and leaving the pair behind. 

 

 

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“…it stands for Apropos Of Nothing,” Coulson finished, tone carefully neutral as he explained the situation to Director Fury.

 

Agent Hill had winced, just slightly, when Coulson told them the boy’s moniker, but Coulson was more interested in Fury’s reaction.  The Director had that _look_ back on his face again.  As if he was trying to sort through a particularly tricky puzzle, but the answer continued to allude him.

 

After a minute of no response, Coulson shifted his stance, his movement provoking Fury to snap out of whatever thoughts seemed to be troubling him.  “Good job,” Fury said gruffly.  “But I still need to know why he was sneaking around our systems.  What information was he looking for?”

 

Coulson nodded sharply, “Understood, sir.”  He was about to turn around to go back to the interrogation room when Fury held up a hand to stay him.

 

“I think this day has been harrowing enough for the child,” Fury said in a strange and rare show of compassion.  “Romanoff and Barton can finish interrogating him later.  For now, set him up with a room.  He’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Oh, and Coulson,” Fury grinned evilly, that sadistic streak he was known for coming back full force.  “You’ll be his caretaker as long as he’s here.”

 

“But…”

 

“That’s an order, Agent Coulson,” Fury barked, swiftly cutting through Coulson’s protest.

 

Shoulders slumping slightly in defeat, Coulson nodded once more.  “Yes, sir.”

 

 


	4. Bewildered Fledgling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has that feeling again.

AON looked around the interrogation room, bored out of his mind.  The ‘bad’ agent had promised him coffee and AON was _really_ hoping the guy kept his word.  He needed caffeine.  But for right now, all he had was a fuck-ton of nothing to do except sit there and contemplate this problematic situation he found himself in.

 

Scared wasn’t really a good word to describe how he was feeling.  These people might have kidnapped him, but as of yet, he didn’t feel threatened.  Yes, the redhead had pulled that knife, but once he had calmed down a little, AON realized that he had never picked up any sense of ill intent or violence.  He’d picked up other feelings like frustration and annoyance.  But that was like the default response to his presence, emotions AON could easily ignore.

 

So yeah, AON wasn’t scared.

 

 _Bewildered_ was more like it. 

 

AON couldn’t say that the risk of being caught had never crossed his mind.  He wasn’t stupid.  Obviously.  But the _possibility_ of capture was markedly different than the _reality_ of it.

 

He’d always thought it would play out more like a SWAT team bursting into his apartment and arresting him.  Not some Suit trailing him around all day and then whisking him away in the middle of the night.  AON would have preferred having the SWAT team in all honesty.  At least that would have been fast and painless.

 

AON had _not_ enjoyed the paranoid prickling sensation he felt on the back of his neck all day yesterday, the Suit stalking him like a freaking shadow.  His attempted escape, although an epic failure, had at least served the purpose of being a catalyst to get things kicked off.  The Suit had made his move and brought him in…the question was, where exactly were they?

 

AON lost count of how many different systems he had hacked by that point- ranging from Fortune 500 companies to university research labs to government agencies- so it was safe to say that he had made a lot of potential enemies.  But which one had been the one to finally catch on to the breach in their security?

 

It was easy enough to eliminate some of the options.  This facility _screamed_ government.  Possibly military.  FBI or CIA was more likely though.  You know, what with them calling themselves agents and what not.

 

AON let out a sigh, still too many possibilities to really make a decent guess.  This state of not knowing was making him jumpy, nervous energy thrumming through his body.  His hands were restless, fingers tracing random lines of code only he could see.  At this point, he’d even welcome the BHOF back if it meant they were finally going to tell him what they wanted from him.

 

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and the door opened to reveal ‘bad’ agent, sans partner, but holding a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.  Jumping to his feet with a grin, AON reached out to grab the mug only to have the guy turn away and keep the yummy goodness out of his reach. 

 

“Sit,” the guy said and AON collapsed back into his chair, eyes never leaving the coffee mug.  “Oh look, he’s trainable,” the guy laughed as he pulled out a chair of his own.

 

AON shot the guy a narrowed glare, turning his head away and crossing his arms over his chest.  “I’m not a dog.”

 

“No one said you were,” the guy said as he set the coffee cup down and nudged it towards AON like a peace offering.  “But it’s good to see you can follow orders.  That will serve you well here.”

 

AON reached out and snatched the coffee before the guy could take it back, humming in pleasure when he took a big gulp.  It was too hot and scalded his tongue, but it was strong and delicious and _good_.  Caffeine would help settle his thoughts; something he felt would be a necessity if he hoped to come out of this whole thing alive, whatever this thing was.

 

“Where is here exactly?”  AON asked, hoping the guy would be willing to talk.  The man was amiable enough, more expressive than the Suit and the redhead, that’s for sure.  Plus, the guy had brought him _coffee_ …so he’d earned a gold star in AON’s book.

 

“Ah, well, my young friend, right now you get to enjoy the delightful accommodations of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

 

AON snorted at the long-winded name.  “No wonder you guys went with SHIELD.  That is one hell of a mouthful.” 

 

“That it is,” the guy said, eyes twinkling with laughter.  AON took another sip of his drink to hide his confusion.  He thought the comment was a pretty obvious way to jump right back into the interrogation, but instead the guy was acting as if this was just a conversation between friends.  Fucking weird.

 

“The name’s Barton, by the way,” the guy informed him, his lips twitching in amusement.  “Clint Barton.”

 

AON rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

 

Clint grinned broadly, white teeth flashing in the fluorescent lighting.  “Hell no.  I’ve been an agent for years and that was the first time I got to use the Bond gimmick.”

 

“What a sad life you lead,” AON intoned, voice dropped low in mockery of condolence.  “So…what are my chances of getting out of here?”

 

AON didn’t see the point in holding back his curiosity.  If Clint didn’t want to reveal anything, then he wouldn’t.  AON knew he wasn’t really in any position to force the issue, but he figured there wasn’t really any harm in asking.

 

“We aren’t going to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.  That’s not an option.”

 

AON raised an eyebrow, conveying his skepticism.  He knew there wouldn’t be anyone looking for him and he had effectively eliminated himself from the government so there wasn’t any protection on that end either…SHIELD could really do anything they wanted to him.  And considering he had read some of their mission reports, it gave him a vague idea about the _type_ of organization SHIELD was…

 

But then again, he hadn’t picked up any evil intent on their behalf, so maybe he could take Agent Barton at his word.

 

“Okay,” Clint relented with a guilty wince.  “ _Technically_ we could kill you, but the important thing is that we won’t.  The real question you should be asking is if you’re ever going to be freed to go back to your normal life.”

 

 _It’s not much of a life to go back to_ , AON thought.  But he sure as hell wasn’t going to say that out loud.

 

“Alright, then what’s your prognosis for me gaining my freedom?”

 

Clint leaned back in his chair, a pensive look on his face.  AON was surprised the man was taking the question seriously.  He’d been expecting Clint to offer one of those ‘if you cooperate then we’ll let you go in no time’ platitudes.  But he didn’t and AON was comforted by the fact that at least he’d be getting an _honest_ answer, even if he doubted it was going to be a _pleasant_ answer.

 

“Well, that probably depends on what type of information you were able to obtain while sneaking around our systems.  But more importantly, it depends on what kind of mood Director Fury is in.”

 

Finishing off the last of the coffee, AON scowled down at the empty mug before setting it on the table with a forlorn look.  “And who is this Director Fury?”

 

“I think you already met him.”

 

AON frowned in thought, thinking back to the few men he had seen so far.  Obviously not Clint, he’d already said earlier that he had to go talk to his superiors.  Besides, Clint didn’t seem like the kind of guy to refer to himself in third person.  AON remembered the Suit being referred to as Coulson.  So that left…

 

“Oh god,” AON groaned, “You mean that BHOF is the head honcho?”

 

“BHOF?” Clint asked curiously.

 

“Bald-headed, old fart.”

 

Clint stared at him in stunned silence for a second before bursting out laughing, his head thrown back and eyes crinkled in humor.  After a while, he managed to reign in his amusement, body rumbling with residual chuckles.  “I suggest you _never_ let Fury hear you call him that, _especially_ if you hope to get out of here.”

 

“I could call him FOL instead,” AON offered with a smirk.

 

“And what does that stand for?” Clint asked, eyes bright with laughter.

 

“Fond of leather,” AON responded cheekily.

 

“Accurate, I’ll admit,” Clint nodded, “but I still think it’s safest if you refer to him as Director Fury or sir.”

 

AON snorted and waved towards himself.  “Do I look like the kind of guy that would refer to someone as sir?”

 

“No,” Clint sighed.  “Call it wishful thinking.  I’m just trying to look out for you.”

 

There was silence for a moment, AON’s eyes automatically narrowing in distrust. 

 

“Why?” AON asked snappishly, voice wary and just a little frustrated.  “Why do you care what happens to me?”

 

Clint didn’t answer, just leveled a somber look on AON before reaching out to grab the empty coffee mug.  Without another word, the agent got to his feet and exited the room, leaving an extremely confused AON behind.

 

…Yeah, bewildered was a _great_ word to describe the way AON was feeling. 

 

 

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“Coulson’s on his way back,” Natasha informed Clint as soon as he reentered the observation deck.  “AON will be staying at SHIELD for now.”

 

Clint nodded his head, not really surprised by Fury’s decision. 

 

“Coulson’s been assigned his babysitter.”

 

Not surprising either.

 

“But it looks like you’ve already taken him under your wing, Hawkeye.”

 

The marksman glanced at his partner and shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.  Natasha seemed to accept it as answer enough and didn’t push.

 

“Probably a good thing.  The boy looks trouble enough that Coulson will need all the help he can get,” she mused.

 

Clint nodded distractedly, thoughts spinning as he considered the boy on the other side of the glass.  Clint hadn’t answered the kid’s question because he wasn’t entirely too sure about the answer himself.  He didn’t know _why_ cared, _why_ he felt the need to protect AON.  He just did.

 

… It went back to that gut feeling he had that made him ignore the kill-order on Natasha.  Clint’s decision to spare the young Russian spy had been shocking, even to himself, but Clint hadn’t lived to regret it yet.  Knew he never would.

 

And if AON was bringing out that same instinctive need to protect rather than harm, then Clint was going to trust his instincts.  Before, it had resulted in landing him the most dependable partner and friend he could have ever hoped for.  And now…well, Clint was interested to see how things would play out this time too.

 

“So,” Natasha broke into his thoughts.  “What was that he called Fury?”

 

Clint grinned, lingering amusement bubbling up in his chest.  “Not something Fury should ever find out about,” he said lightly before turning to leave.  He had some videotapes to tamper with.  Clint couldn’t even imagine the swift death that would befall the kid if Fury ever saw evidence of that BHOF comment. 

 

 

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Natasha wasn’t sure what to think of this boy, AON.  It was easy to see he’d already won himself a protector in Clint.  _How_ he had done so, she had no idea.  But Natasha had learned long ago that Clint was impulsive by nature, acting on instincts rather than relying on convention.  It was why he was such an expert sniper.  All the calculations of wind speed, trajectory of a moving target, down-drop due to gravity…they helped, but they weren’t what made Clint _amazing_ at what he did.  No, what made Clint the best was that instinctive knowledge of how the bullet or arrow would move due to countless hours of practice.

 

His impulsive nature had gotten Hawkeye into trouble more often than Natasha cared to keep track of, but those gut feelings he had when missions were going to hell and the tenacity to act on those gut feelings had also saved her life more times than she could count.

 

So if Clint wanted to adopt a little fledgling, Natasha wouldn’t stop him…but it was going to take a little more than some snarky comments- her English was perfectly fine, thank you very much- to convince Natasha that _she_ should accept the boy.

 

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Coulson went and released Romanoff to go back to her other duties, earning himself a bland stare when he asked where Barton had wandered off to.  Clearly it wasn’t something he wanted to know, unless of course he waned another headache.  Given that this AON kid was going to be headache enough, Coulson decided to let the question remained unanswered.

 

Word had already spread through headquarters that Coulson had brought in an unconscious person of interest.  Luckily, the news had not yet reached Jacobs.  Coulson was hoping he could get AON settled in his room before the head of the Cyber-Subterfuge Team caught wind that the hacker was in headquarters.

 

Opening the door to the interrogation room, Coulson threw the two duffels he had retrieved onto the table.  “Come on,” he waved for AON to grab his stuff and follow him.  “Director Fury has decided that you’ll be staying here at headquarters.  I’ll show you to your room.”

 

“Hey!” Coulson could hear AON scrambling to chase after him as he strode swiftly down the hallway.  “Don’t I get a say in this?” 

 

Glancing to the side, Coulson answered very simply.  “No.”

 

AON gave him an affronted look but said nothing as he tagged along beside Coulson.  The boy’s wide-eyed stare at everything they passed was telling that maybe this whole thing was just a tad overwhelming.  Coulson had to keep in mind that although AON was highly intelligent…he was still just a kid.  Clearly a kid with a rough past- that distrustful and wary look in his eyes fit in well here at SHIELD- but having academic smarts or even street smarts wouldn’t prepare him for _this_ particular experience.

 

Coulson led AON to a room that was located within the Avengers’ sector.  It wasn’t the only room available at headquarters, but it was the closest to Coulson’s own room.  Although he might not _like_ Fury’s order, Coulson always carried out his missions with the same stoic-like perfectionism.

 

Striding up to the panel adjacent to the room, Coulson entered in a few commands before placing his hand on the scanner.  He then grasped AON’s hand and waited for the scanner to finish its job.  AON watched the process with fascinated but sharp eyes.  The boy looked like he was already trying to figure out a way to reprogram the thing. Coulson would have to keep an eye on the panel’s security to ensure that _his_ commands would take precedence over AON’s.

 

Once he was done setting up the identification protocols, Coulson pushed the door open and waved AON inside.  The boy entered slowly, eyes taking in his new home. 

 

It was a standard issue room, roughly the same size as the apartment AON had abandoned in East Boston, but Coulson knew the amenities were far better.  For one, there was an actual bed frame on which the mattress sat.  There was a desk with a comfortable chair and a bookcase next to it.  There was also a small cache of food in a storage closet next to the bathroom and a small microwave sat on a shelf of the bookcase.

 

AON threw his duffels on the bed and turned to Coulson with a confused frown.  “How exactly is my detainment going to go?  I mean, am I literally quarantined here, or can I leave this room?”

 

“You’ll get to leave this room, but you’ll only be able to leave when I’m with you.”

 

“So you’re what…like my babysitter?” AON asked disbelievingly.

 

“We call it a handler,” Coulson informed the boy.  “But yes, basically I am your babysitter.”

 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” AON huffed.  “I’ve been taking care of myself for years now.”

 

“Be that as it may, neither of us has a choice in the matter.  Fury doesn’t trust you to just wander around SHIELD by yourself, and I’ve been the one assigned to watch over you.”

 

AON rolled his eyes before flopping onto the bed, throwing his arms back to pillow his head as he stared at the ceiling.  “Sucks for you.”

 

“You realize it’s a bad idea to antagonize your captors, don’t you?”

 

AON turned his head to give Coulson a sharp grin.  “You realize it’s _stupid_ to expect cooperation from a person you knocked unconscious twice, kidnapped, threatened with a knife, and imprisoned, don’t you?”

 

Coulson shrugged his shoulders minutely.  “You were being difficult.”

 

AON raised a disbelieving eyebrow.  “How exactly was I being difficult?  I’ve answered your stupid questions and I haven’t really even put up much of a fuss about you guys making life-altering decisions for me.”

 

“This never would have been an issue if you hadn’t hacked into our systems in the first place.”

 

Rolling his eyes, AON turned back to look up at the ceiling.  “If it makes you feel any better, the only reason I played around in your systems for so long is because you guys were an actual challenge.”

 

“No,” Coulson said succinctly, “that does not make me feel any better.”

 

“Suit yourself,” AON smiled amusedly, “Suit.”

 

Coulson only just refrained from rolling his eyes at AON’s immaturity.  “My name is not Suit.  You may refer to me as Agent Coulson or Coulson.”

 

AON glanced sideways, considering him for a moment.  “Alright, Agent, so what exactly happens now?”

 

Coulson allowed a small smile to touch his lips.  “Now, AON, I am going to get some sleep.  I suggest you do the same.  I’ll be back to get you tomorrow morning so Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff can finish questioning you.”

 

Moving into a sitting position, AON looked around the sparse room.  “What am I supposed to do in here for an entire day?”

 

“You’re a smart kid,” Coulson ignored AON’s scowl at his word choice.  “I’m sure you’ll find a way to entertain yourself.”

 

“And what if I can’t?” AON asked, seemingly just to be difficult.

 

Coulson shrugged his shoulders slightly.  “I can knock you unconscious again if you would prefer to just sleep the day away,” he offered, only half-joking.

 

AON burst out laughing, the sound tinged with just a bit of hysteria.  When AON glanced over and registered the completely serious look on Coulson’s face, his jaw quickly snapped shut.  Lurching up into a sitting position, AON scooted away until his back was against the wall.

 

“Dude, knocking someone unconscious should _not_ be the default reaction for how to deal with someone!”

 

“It’s been a good solution in the past.”  It was Coulson’s preferred method for dealing with Barton when the sniper was fraying away at his nerves.

 

AON rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head back and forth.  “You people are insane.”

 

“So that’s a no then?”

 

AON scowled irritably at Coulson.  “That’s a fuck no.  God, whatever, go away.  I’ll entertain myself,” he waved the handler away. 

 

Coulson turned away, a small smirk on his face, proud of himself for flustering the kid.  “I’ll be by at seven tomorrow morning to collect you.”  He exited the room, ignoring the request for coffee tomorrow morning that followed him out.  Turning to the panel, Coulson secured the room so that the boy would not be allowed to leave.

 

Striding down the hallway, Coulson paused in his steps when an outraged yell echoed out of AON’s room.  A quiet chuckle escaped the handler.  It was clear the boy had discovered some of his possessions missing, most importantly all of his technology.  Coulson had taken AON’s laptop, cell phone, and other little gadgets, not trusting the ingenious teenager with anything that might give him a way to fashion an escape route.

 

He’d return them to AON eventually…if the boy behaved.


	5. A Chance Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogation Part II reveals what led AON to SHIELD.

When Agent Coulson went to retrieve AON the next morning, he had been expecting to find a zombified teenager, grumbling about being awoken so early.  Because that would be a normal teenage reaction, right? But, as in everything else involving the kid so far, AON did not quite fall in line with what was ‘expected.'

 

First, when Coulson palmed the security panel, he winced when it sent an electric shock through his hand. Frowning down at the panel, he tried again only to get the same reaction.   After calling out and receiving no answer, Coulson heaved a sigh before stepping back and kicking the door in.  Second, when he stepped into the room, it was to find AON sprawled out on the floor, wires and the odd remnants of the microwave and bookcase scattered around him, not evening bothering to look up when Coulson crashed through the door.  Thirdly, when the handler looked around, he saw that the wall behind the security panel had been ripped apart and the wiring had been redone.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I got bored,” AON replied simply, as if that explained everything. 

 

“So you decided to destroy your room?”

 

“You told me to entertain myself,” AON said defensively.  The teenager scowled down at the mess in his hands and then threw it onto his bed before looking up to Coulson with a smirk.

 

“So time for Interrogation Part II?”

 

When Coulson took a closer look at AON’s face, he could easily see the dark shadows under his eyes.  “Did you even go to sleep?”

 

Jumping to his feet, AON completely ignored the question.  “Will I get coffee afterwards again?”

 

“If you answer our questions, then sure.”  Coulson thought the boy would be better off with a few hours of rest, but if the promise of coffee could ensure his cooperation then why not.

 

“Great!” AON smiled happily.  “Then let’s get this over with,” he motioned for Coulson to lead the way.

 

When the pair reached the interrogation room, Coulson was not pleased in the slightest by the way Barton and the kid happily greeted each other; them being friendly did not bode well for the handler’s continued sanity.

 

 

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“Hey, Double-0!”

 

Clint smiled at AON as the teenager took his seat, arms sprawled out over the table as his fingers tapped a stochastic beat.

 

“Morning, AON.  How’re you today?”

 

“Great, fine, fantastic, ecstatic even.  Agent promised me coffee.”  Clint shot a Coulson a questioning look, wondering why the kid was so hyped up, but the handler just ignored it and turned to leave the room.  Natasha would be waiting for Coulson on the observation deck.  Clint and Natasha had both agreed that considering the sniper had already established a rapport with the teenager, it would be best if he conducted the rest of the interrogation alone.

 

“Is that so?” 

 

AON nodded enthusiastically, his movements frenzied.  Upon closer inspection, Clint could see that the boy was running on his last dregs of energy, well ensnared by that manic state of near-exhaustion. 

 

“Great.  So are you willing to answer some more questions?”

 

“For coffee?  Sure.  Ask away.”

 

After leaning back to get a little more comfortable, Clint tilted his head to the side as he considered where to start.  They didn’t really know anything about the boy.  But Director Fury would want some specific answers about what the kid knew of SHIELD so he might as well start there.

 

“You’ve hacked into a lot of different systems, correct?”  At AON’s confirming nod, Clint continued.  “What led you too choose SHIELD as a target?  What information were you looking for?”

 

AON laughed as he shook his head.  “You’re assuming I had ulterior motives other than curiosity, in the beginning, which I didn’t, just so you know.  I saw SHIELD listed as a collaborator on a mission report and got curious about what kind of organization it was.  When you guy’s actually provided a challenge…” AON shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess it just made me even more determined to get in.”

 

“What was the mission report?”

 

“It was a joint mission between a SHIELD op in Singapore and the U.S. Air Force.”

 

“And why were you looking at that particular report?”

 

AON’s eyes warmed, just a little, enough to show that despite the kid’s joking demeanor, there were still things that were important to him, that actually meant something to him.

 

“I was checking up on someone.”

 

 

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_Six Years Ago_

 

 

Lt. Col. James Rhodes strode down the street towards Mel’s, an old diner he used to frequent back when he was a younger man and a student at MIT.  He’d only been back in the Boston area for a few days, the higher-ups having sent him on a recruiting tour along the eastern seaboard.  A few blocks out from his destination, James heard the sounds of fighting coming from across the street.

 

Frowning in worry, James quickly strode towards the back of the youth center where the grunts and yells and curses were coming from.  When he turned the corner, he was shocked by what he saw. 

 

There was a group of three young teenagers surrounding a much smaller boy who was curled up on the ground.  The small boy had one arm curled around his stomach and the other around his head, a weak attempt to protect the vulnerable parts of his body from the harsh kicks the older boys were raining down on him.

 

“Cut that out!” James barked, making the three teenagers jump in fright.  When they looked up and saw the angry Colonel striding towards them, they hastily turned and ran away.  James scowled after them, but didn’t make any attempt to catch the troublemakers.  The small boy still curled up on the ground was clearly more important.

 

Crouching down, James tried to calm the quivering child.  “Hey,” James spoke soothingly.  “You’re alright.  They’re gone.”

 

The boy pulled his arm away from his head just enough to stare warily up at James, his eyes large and dark.  Smiling kindly, James moved away slightly to give the boy a little space.  “Are you hurt?”

 

Uncurling from his defensive position, the boy sat up and rubbed the back of his hand across his face.  James winced when blood smeared across the boy’s cheek, his split lip trickling crimson droplets slowly down his chin.  The kid was also sporting the beginnings of what was sure to be an astounding black eye.

 

 “I’m fine,” the boy mumbled, shakily getting to his feet.

 

James rose to his feet as well, not liking the way the boy swayed from side to side.  “How’s your head?”  He could see a knot forming on the back of the boy’s head and worried he might have a slight concussion.

 

“I said I’m fine,” the boy snapped as he brushed dirt of his jeans.

 

James reached out a hand to prod softly at the bump on the boy’s head, trying to see if it was bleeding.  As soon as his fingers touched the wound, the boy yelped in pain and angrily batted his hand away.  “What the fuck, man?  Leave me alone!”

 

“You shouldn’t use that word,” James chastised the boy, who looked to be about ten years old, but respected the kid’s wish and dropped his hand to his side.  “I’m just trying to make sure you’re alright.”

 

“What the _fuck_ do you care?” The boy spit, eyes flashing as he glared up at Colonel Rhodes.

 

James shrugged his shoulders and tucked his hands into his pockets, relaxing his body language so as to come off as less threatening.  “Seeing as how I dedicate my life to protecting the people of the United States, it would be highly counter-productive if I let a kid bleed out on the streets of Boston.”

 

The boy cocked his head to the side and a thoughtful look came over his face.  “You’re military?”  Smart kid.

 

Grinning broadly, James held out his hand as he introduced himself.  “Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes.”

 

Tentatively, the boy raised an arm to shake hands.  James frowned when the boy offered up no name of his own.  “What’s your name?  Or am I just supposed to call you boy?” He’d meant it as a joke, but the child just shrugged his shoulders in response.

 

“Wouldn’t be the first to call me that.  Kid, brat, and ‘hey, you!’ work as well.  No point in getting attached to a name when I’m never in one place long enough for someone to actually learn it.”

 

Taking in the tattered secondhand clothing, the distrustful air, and the comment about moving around, James came to a rather saddening conclusion.

 

“You in the system?”

 

“Bingo!  Got it in one,” the boy grinned ruthlessly up at him. 

 

James withheld the sigh itching to escape his lips.  Sometimes he forgot that even with all the work he did to keep civilians safe from outside threats, there were still a lot of problems stemming from _within_ his country’s borders.  It was obvious the system hadn’t treated the boy well and it kind of broke his heart to see someone so young already so disillusioned with the world.

 

Colonel Rhodes didn’t think he’d be able to convince the boy to go to the hospital, but James was hesitant to let the boy out of his sight until he was sure the kid wouldn’t pass out from his head injury. 

 

“You hungry?”

 

The boy shot him a narrowed glare and James held up his hands in a show of surrender.  “No strings attached.  Just thought you could use some food.  You’re a bit on the scrawny side.”  James smiled amusedly at the scowl that the boy gave him.  “I’m on my way to the diner down the street.  You’re free to join me if you’d like,” James informed the boy, turning to leave.  Rhodes knew the boy would follow him, the kid looked half-starved, but the boy needed to feel like it was completely his choice, no pressure.

 

James had only just stepped back out onto the open street when he heard soft footfall chasing after him.  The boy trailed behind, keeping space between them and never wandering within ten feet of Colonel Rhodes.  When James glanced over his shoulder, the boy immediately dropped his gaze, feet scuffing the ground and his shoulders hunched over.

 

When the Colonel arrived at the diner, he smiled hello to Ruth, the grandmotherly waitress who had been serving him tuna melts dating back to his days as an over-stressed grad student at MIT.  He didn’t get to visit Boston all that often, but when he did he always made sure to drop by Mel’s diner, earning himself a free slice of apple pie and a warm smile from Ruth. 

 

Sliding into the back corner table, James picked up a menu, despite already knowing what he was going to order.  He heard the boy slide into the booth across from him less than a minute later, but kept reading the menu so as to give the boy some privacy to get his bearings about him.  Another minute passed and Ruth ambled over, water pitcher in hand.

 

“Hello James,” she smiled as she poured them each a glass of water.  “How’ve you been?”

 

“I’ve been great, Ruthy,” James grinned as he folded up the menu.  “You?”

 

Ruth propped a hand on her hip, her eyes crinkling as she smiled warmly down at the Colonel.  “Much better now that you’re here.  How long you in town?”

 

“Only until tomorrow morning, I’m afraid.  I’ve got to be in New York to speak at NYU in the afternoon.”

 

“You’re doing good work, son,” Ruth patted his shoulder.  Nodding towards the disheveled kid, Ruth gave him a questioning look.  “And who’s your dining partner today, James?”

 

James saw the boy tense as soon as the topic of conversation turned to him, but the kid refused to look up from the menu he was perusing.

 

“Can’t say that I know myself.  Found the boy fighting and figured he could go for a decent meal.”

 

Ruth nodded perceptively, eyes studying the small boy who shifted nervously in his seat, clearly not used to getting much attention. “The boy is skin and bones.  It’s a good thing you brought him here.  You want your usual?”

 

James nodded, “And a vanilla shake, please,” he tacked on.

 

Looking towards the boy, Ruth smiled again.  “And for you sweetie?”

 

The kid looked up and bit his lip in a nervous gesture, only to wince when he pulled at the cut.  James just nodded his head in encouragement when the boy shot him a questioning look.

 

“I’ll have a cheeseburger.”

 

“Please,” Ruth corrected and the boy blushed slightly before ducking his head down.

 

“Please,” he mumbled, shoulders hunched over once more.

 

“I’ll bring over some extra napkins and an ice pack so you can treat your wounds,” Ruth informed them before heading back towards the kitchen.  She came back out a minute later with the mentioned supplies and patted the boy’s shoulder comfortingly before leaving once again.

 

Silence descended over the table as the boy dipped a napkin into his water and then wiped the blood off his face, grimacing each time he prodded a cut or bruise.  James didn’t say anything, just watched the boy with concern in his eyes.  Overall, the wounds seemed superficial, and the boy’s eyes were clear and intelligent, assuaging the Colonel’s fears that the kid might have sustained a concussion.

 

James waited until Ruth had brought their food and they were both digging into their meals before trying to prompt a conversation.  “So why were you fighting?”

 

The boy snorted, as he set his burger down and picked up a French-fry.  “You mean, why was I getting my ass kicked?” He grinned as he bit the fry in half.  “Three against one isn’t much of a fight.  Especially when all three had twenty pounds each on the one.”

 

James nodded in agreement as he sipped at his shake.  “Alright then,” he said as he wiped his lips with a napkin.  “Why were they beating you up?”

 

“Well,” the boy drew random patterns in his ketchup with a fry.  “I had this agreement with them and when they didn’t hold up their end, I might have retaliated and pissed them off a little.”

 

James stared disbelievingly at the boy, “A little?”

 

The boy touched his fingers gently to his bruising left eye.  “I’ve had worse.”

 

James tried not to think too hard about that comment or the offhand manner in which the boy had thrown it out there.  “What sort of agreement was it?”

 

The boy peered up from his plate and gave him a critical look.  “You’re not going to like it.”

 

“I’m not here to judge you, kid.”

 

The Colonel didn’t expect to get an answer when the boy went back to drawing with his ketchup, but after a few seconds the boy began speaking again.

 

“I’m kinda smart.  Good with computers, yeah?  And those guys, well…they weren’t doing so well in their classes.  They needed passing grades or they couldn’t play for the basketball team.  I said I’d hack into the school’s database and change their grades for them if they each gave me forty bucks.  They agreed, so I did.”

 

James tried not to gape at the boy.  It was a more than a little shocking to hear that the boy was smart enough to do something like that.  He was so young, so small.

 

 “But then, when they were supposed to pay me, they went back on their side of the deal.  I ended up sending an anonymous tip to the principal about their mysterious passing grades and when the principal talked to the teachers, they figured out what had happened and expelled those guys.  They tried telling the principal I was the one who had done it, but obviously the man didn’t believe them.”

 

The kid grinned wickedly, a mischievous glint in his eye.  “Not all that hard to convince the principal I was innocent considering I was recently switched over to the Special Ed classes.”

 

“Why would you be placed in those?”  The boy was clearly a gifted intellectual, if his story was to be believed.

 

“Teachers assume I’ve got ADHD or something,” the boy rolled his eyes.  “Truth of the matter is that I find the teachers too stupid to listen to and the material too boring to bother myself with.  I mean, they were trying to teach me pre-algebra!  Seriously?  I taught myself calculus two years ago.”

 

James frowned in confusion at the boy.  “If you’re so smart, then why don’t you prove it to them and get moved up a few grade levels?”

 

“Why should I have to prove myself to a bunch of close-minded assholes?”  The boy scowled, voice bitter and scathing.  “I tried correcting a math teacher once and he just got all pissed off and sent me to detention when I pointed out he was a complete idiot.  Adults don’t _listen_.”

 

“I’m listening,” James spoke softly, waiting until the boy met his gaze before continuing.  “And, to be frank, I’m not particularly liking what I’m hearing.  You should be doing something more with your life, kid.  Not wasting it.”

 

“I thought you said you weren’t here to judge,” the boy sneered at him, crossing his arms over his chest unhappily.

 

Heaving a sigh, James shook his head.  “You’re right, sorry.  I just…I feel like you’re wasting a lot of potential.”

 

“What potential?  I’m a poor, loser, system kid.  What kind of opportunities do you really think are available to me?”

 

“What’s the harm in trying?  Surely you want to do more with your life.  You can mean something,” James tried to make the boy see that he shouldn’t give up so easily, not when he had his whole life ahead of him.

 

The boy just scoffed and shook his head.  “I’ve got no purpose in life, just one of the masses, faceless and useless.  Enough people have told me so.”

 

“I’m telling you differently,” James said firmly.

 

The wary look of disbelief and confusion the boy gave him made James frustrated, angry with everyone that had told this boy he didn’t mean anything.  How could they so easily knock down a child’s self-confidence?

 

The rest of the meal was spent in silence.  The boy trapped in his own mind, clearly unsettled by James’s words.  The Colonel was busy trying to figure out how he could help this boy.  He’d definitely be escorting the boy home, maybe try and speak with those in charge of taking care of him.

 

“I’m going to go pay the bill,” James said as he got to his feet.  “Stay here and I’ll walk you home.”

 

The boy didn’t say anything, just sat there, frowning down at his hands.  Taking his silence as acquiescence, James went to say goodbye to Ruth and pay the bill.  He was just promising that he’d be back to visit next time he was in town when he heard the tinkling of the bell at the door.  Spinning around, James saw the boy turning the corner at a run.

 

“Shit,” James cursed as he gave chase.  He slammed through the diner door, and went left, hoping to catch up with the boy.  When he turned the corner, the boy was no longer on the main street.  James ran down a few blocks, checking each alley for any sign of the boy, but the child was long gone.  After twenty minutes of useless searching, James leaned against one of the buildings, peering up at the sky.

 

Tapping his knuckles against the brick wall, James heaved a sigh.  “Good luck, kid,” he whispered to the empty street.

 

 

 

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“It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, right?  I mean, the guy hadn’t really even said all that much…” AON spoke slowly as he puzzled through his own memories of that time.  “But for some reason, it stuck with me.”

 

Clint understood.  Words weren’t needed in a situation like that.  When you felt like the world was beating you down…the simple act of someone _being_ there for you, however brief, was enough to make an impact.

 

“A few months afterwards…I was just getting so fed up with constantly being moved around.  I’d never lasted more than four months at a single place and I _hated_ it.  It’s not a good feeling being discarded…” AON stopped abruptly, probably realizing that he was revealing more than he had intended to.

 

Clearing his throat awkwardly, the teenager continued.  “Anyways, like I said, a few months after that meal with Col. Rhodes I decided I was going to ditch the system.  I’d make my own way in the world, maybe fulfill that potential he saw in me.  I started saving up cash doing odd jobs around the neighborhood.  I taught myself more about computers and code…made plans on how I’d be able to survive once I left the system.  It took a while, but I finally made it out.”

 

AON’s lips settled into a wry smile.  “It wasn’t easy, but eventually I got settled into my apartment and found a steady source of income, which was completely legal, bt-dubs…seriously, do you know how many people need help with computers?” AON laughed amusedly before getting back on topic.

 

“Point of the matter is Col. Rhodes was the impetus for me trying to find my own place in this world.  But there wasn’t any way I could really thank him, so I figured I could at least check up on him, you know?  Every few weeks I’d read through his reports, just to make sure he was alright.  Five months back I was doing my standard check-up on him and I saw the operation in Singapore.  He was acting as the go-between for the Air Force and SHIELD…” AON waved a hand in the air distractedly.  “Which led to me hacking your guys’ network.”

 

Clint nodded his head slowly in understanding.  “Why’d you continue to hack our systems though?  You said it was just curiosity.  After you got in the first time, why’d you keep coming back?”

 

“…I might have been a little interested in some things you guys are involved in,” AON admitted with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

 

“Such as?”

 

“Science,” AON answered in a tone that implied he thought Clint stupid for even having to ask.  A tone that, Clint was sad to admit, he was all too familiar with.  “Some of the top scientists are involved in research projects funded by SHIELD.  Dr. Selvig, Dr. Foster, Dr. Banner…they are all like… _brilliant_! I read…” And AON was off, hands waving around wildly in the air as words tumbled from his mouth.

 

As the boy launched into his excited rambling, Clint had to fight to keep the smile off his face.  It wasn’t an easy battle to win.  AON was legitimately in awe of Erik, Jane, and Bruce as he spoke about their work, very similar to the star-struck quality that overcame Coulson when he had first been introduced to Captain America.

 

After ten minutes of AON’s fervent exaltations, Coulson entered the room and the boy trailed off with an embarrassed cough.  Clint tilted his head towards the handler, receiving a blank look in return.

 

Realizing the questioning was over for now, Clint got to his feet. “Well, it seems like we’re done here.  I’ll see you later, AON.  Behave for Agent Coulson.” The archer huffed a quiet laugh when the kid snorted and the handler rolled his eyes. Smiling to himself, Clint strolled out of the room and left the boy in Coulson’s capable hands.

 

 

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 “Coffee?”  AON questioned the Suit as he followed him through the maze of hallways.  He had no idea where the ‘handler’ was leading him but if it was towards coffee, then he would follow the man pretty much anywhere. 

 

Okay, that was a little bit of an exaggeration.  He most certainly would _not_ follow Suit anywhere.  AON didn’t really trust these people, but…he did want some coffee.

 

When AON didn’t receive an answer, he decided to continue pestering the man.  He had been cultivating his skills of being a thorn in people’s sides for as long as he could remember.  He was fairly certain he’d be able to provoke a response from the stoic Suit eventually.

 

“Is that a no to the coffee?  Cause you promised me coffee if I answered your questions.  Which I did so…coffee.  I want it.  Preferably now.  Do you know the symptoms of caffeine withdrawal?  Because let me tell you, they aren’t enjoyable.  And I would really prefer not having to suffer through…”   **

 

“Shut up,” Suit cut through his babbling and AON stifled a grin. 

 

“What?” AON acted affronted.  “No, I will not shut up.  I really do need coffee.”

 

“You don’t need coffee.  You need sleep,” Suit informed him in a tone saying ‘my word is law.’  It was a good, or bad depending on who you asked, thing AON had never been all that adept at following those little things called _rules_.

 

“No, I don’t,” AON argued back.  Did Suit honestly think it would be easy for him to just go to sleep in this sort of situation?  Closing his eyes and dropping into unconsciousness would leave him vulnerable which was…no, coffee was a much better solution.  

 

“Yes, you do,” the handler retorted.

 

AON scoffed at the reply.  “What is this, middle school?  That is so not a valid argument.  Surely you can do better than that,” AON taunted. 

 

Suddenly, the man halted in his tracks, almost causing AON to run into him.  “You’re right,” Suit said as he turned around swiftly.  “I can do better.”

 

Before AON could open his mouth to question what the handler meant, the guy was lashing out with quick movements.  _Not the response I was hoping for_ was AON’s last thought as he registered the too familiar feel of fingers on his neck and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Thanks to AnonEhouse for enlightening me about the very serious effects of caffeine withdrawal :)


	6. Try Not To Drool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AON is an embarrassing fanboy.

“So,” Darcy sidled right up next to Clint and Natasha as they stretched.  She had been dropping in on the Avengers’ team workouts for a while now, learning necessary moves like the Thigh Death Squeeze from the originator of the move, Black Widow herself.  It was also a great way to feel less guilty about indulging herself during dinner later.  “I heard the hacker is like…prepubescent or something.”

 

Natasha let out an inelegant snort, her lips twitching in amusement.  Clint’s reaction was much more enjoyable.  “How do you hear these things?”  The archer asked with a look of terrified wonderment on his face; it was adorable.

 

 “That question does not even deserve an answer, although, _you_ deserve a slap for doubting my awesome skills at gathering intel.”  Bending down to touch her toes, Darcy titled her head to the side to observe which junior agents she would need to punish later for checking out her ass.  It was an awesome ass, true, but stupid plebeians needed to learn respect.  “So is it true?”

 

“If you’re so amazing at gathering intel, then how come you’re asking if it’s true?  Shouldn’t you already know?” Clint sassed back with a smug smile on his face; it was decidedly less adorable.

 

Straightening up once more, Darcy glared unhappily at the archer.  “I know that the hacker is young.  I’m asking _how_ young.  Rumors have his age ranging from fifteen to twenty-five and I want to know which of my sources is more reliable.”

 

“He’s sixteen,” Natasha offered before pursing her lips, “he thinks.”

 

Darcy raised an incredulous eyebrow.  Two things were very wrong with that statement.  One being, how the fuck was a sixteen year old smart enough to hack SHIELD?  Two being, what the fuck did she mean by ‘he thinks?’

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Darcy watched as very serious looks settled over both of their faces.  “He claims that he suffered from amnesia when he was younger.  Woke up in a hospital thirteen years ago with no autobiographical memory.  Given his size at the time, doctors had estimated him to be about three years old.  So end result is, _he thinks_ he’s sixteen,” Clint explained.

 

“And you guys trust his story?  Seems pretty unrealistic if you ask me.”

 

Clint crossed his arms over his chest, distracting Darcy for just a second as she admired his nicely muscled arms.  “I don’t think the kid was lying,” the archer said tersely.  Darcy glanced over to Natasha to see her take on the situation, but her face was completely blank as she stared intently at her partner.

 

“Alrighty then,” Darcy said into the stilted silence.  “Do you know…” The arrival of Captain America cut off the rest of her question.  One of the conditions for Darcy being allowed to sit in on Avengers’ workouts was that she had to follow Steve’s rules without fault, his most important rule being no idle chitchat during the workouts themselves.  Warm-ups and cool-downs were perfectly fine for socializing, but the workout itself was not.

 

“Bruce is just changing,” Steve told the trio.  “We’re going to get started.  Everyone good to go?”  When the blonde Captain got assenting nods from all of them, he waved them over towards the mats.

 

The workouts were led in rotations.  Bruce would lead first during the meditation and yoga period. Thor would take over for weight training, Steve would lead cardio, and then Natasha and Clint would finish up by leading the sparring sessions.   Darcy settled into her customary spot right in front of Bruce where she would make lecherous faces at him in an effort to make him blush.  The results of her efforts so far were disappointing to say the least; the man’s control was both extremely commendable and extremely frustrating.

 

 

With a last glance to Natasha and Clint beside her, Darcy resigned herself to finishing her questioning of the pair until later.  Right now she needed to focus on keeping up with the team and not garnering herself a lecture from Steve.  Disappointing Steve was like kicking a puppy.  And while Darcy might be mean- according to the SHIELD junior agents- she wasn’t _cruel_.

 

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Steve grinned happily at his team, handing out water bottles to each of them.  The workout had gone really well, Bruce even managing to take down Clint with a leg sweep, and Steve was pleased of with how well they were learning skills from each other.

 

The first few months of the Avengers Initiative had been awkward and rough.  Steve had just woken up in a world he didn’t know, depressed beyond belief.  Bruce had just barely managed to escape capture by General Ross, world weary and untrusting.  Thor had just lost his brother in some sort of limbo, mourning his loss.  And Clint and Natasha…well, they just hadn’t seemed all that sure about how to actually interact with people outside of their superiors.  So yes, those first few months had been rough, but now, a year after Fury had collected this ragtag group of people, the team was…well, a _team_.

 

“Good work people,” Steve said happily, adrenaline and endorphins still pumping through his body.  It was times likes these, when everyone was putting in their best effort to accomplish a goal, even a goal as simple as getting through a workout, that Steve was most proud to be considered their leader. 

 

“Captain,” someone called out, making Steve turn around to nod in greeting at Maria Hill.  “Director Fury would like to see you.”

 

“Do we have a mission?”  Steve asked as he pulled a clean shirt over his bare chest.  At first, Steve had been uncomfortable being half-naked in a gym with so many female agents around, but Steve was quick to adapt and had realized that what was ‘proper’ back then didn’t really apply to what was ‘proper’ now.  Still, Steve had gone as red as a ripe tomato when he had pulled off his shirt for the first time in the gym and been called ‘delectable eye candy’ by Ms. Lewis.  He had long since gotten over his embarrassment at any lewd comments Darcy made.  Well, mostly.

 

“Not for the Avengers, just you. Fury needs you to go soothe the ruffled feathers of some Army Generals at Fort Bragg.  Apparently, General Ross has been trying to gain some backing for his plan to resume ‘custody’ of Dr. Banner and we need you to make sure they aren’t swayed to joining his side on the matter,” Agent Hill informed him.  Steve winced at the mention of General Ross and his eyes flickered over to study Bruce.  The scientist’s body had gone tense, but he didn’t look up from where he was cleaning out a cut Clint had sustained from Natasha’s mean right hook.

 

“Of course,” Steve answered, voice calm and level as he readied himself for battle.  He had never really enjoyed engaging in political warfare, but Steve was more than willing to do his part in keeping _his_ team safe from whatever threat was out there.  “Lead the way.”

 

 

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Coulson left Fury’s office just as Captain Rogers was getting there.  The two nodded in passing before the handler left to go check in on his charge.  After he had knocked the boy unconscious once again, Coulson had realized that it had quite possibly _not_ been the best way to go about ensuring the boy’s continued cooperation.  But, it was too late to take back his ill thought out move and now he would just have to deal with the consequences.

 

It was nearing six thirty, the perfect time to enact his plan to appease any unfriendly emotions AON might hold for him.  Coulson didn’t actually need to be friends with the boy, but being friend _ly_ would make AON’s stay here far easier on both of them.  

 

Unfortunately Jacobs stepped out into the hallway in front of him.  The handler sighed quietly to himself, not wanting to deal with the CST leader right now, but knew there wasn’t anyway to avoid the situation either.

 

“Coulson,” Jacobs yelled when he saw the handler, already rushing down the hallway to prevent Coulson’s escape.  “Where is he?  Fury said you got the hacker,” the computer specialist glanced around Coulson, as if he thought the hacker was hiding behind him.

 

“I did,” Coulson confirmed succinctly.

 

“Well,” Jacobs pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and looked at Coulson expectantly.  “Where is he?”

 

“He’s in a secure location.”

 

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” Jacobs scowled.  “I need to speak with this guy.  He’s been getting past _my_ security team and I want to know how.”

 

“You’ll have to discuss the possibility of a meeting with Director Fury,” Coulson told the frustrated man.

 

Jacobs looked unhappy about the answer, but he knew Coulson well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to get the handler to budge on his decision to keep the hacker from him.  “Fine,” Jacobs bit out.  “Can you at least tell me if the rumors are true?  He’s not really _that_ young, right?”

 

“He’s certainly not what we were expecting,” Coulson answered before sidestepping Jacobs and continuing on his journey to get AON.

 

When Coulson arrived at the new room he had placed AON in, the handler stared down at the security panel suspiciously.  After briefly hesitating, Coulson laid his hand flat against the panel and was relieved to find it was in proper working order.  The door slid open and Coulson stepped in to find the boy still passed out on the bed, arms and legs tangled up in the sheets. 

 

Moving quietly to the bedside, Coulson reached out to prod the boy’s shoulder.  AON let out a grumpy growl and swung a hand out to swat Coulson’s arm away. 

 

“Go ‘way,” AON mumbled as he grabbed the pillow and buried his head underneath it.  Seeing how tired the boy still was, especially after sleeping a good nine hours, Coulson felt less guilty about knocking AON out earlier.  It had been in AON’s best interest, really.

 

“Come on,” Coulson pulled the pillow off AON’s head.  “Time for dinner.”

 

“Not hungry,” AON opened his eyes to glare tiredly at Coulson.  “Besides, I’m not going anywhere with you. Ever. Again.”

 

Coulson held his other hand out to reveal the cup of coffee he had been holding.  “I brought you coffee.”

 

The teenager and the handler stared at each other in silence, testing one another to see who would break first.  AON was good, but Coulson was better.  After a minute, the hacker’s eyes slid to the coffee and he gave an angry huff as he sat up and grabbed the cup.

 

Swinging his legs off to the side of the bed, AON gulped down his coffee in twenty seconds flat.  Done with that, AON looked up to give Coulson a bland look.  “Still don’t trust you.”

 

Smiling slightly, Coulson shrugged his shoulders.  That wasn’t something he hadn’t heard before.  It had taken him five weeks to gain Clint’s trust and four months to gain Natasha’s.  AON would be difficult, but Coulson had experience with difficult.

 

“You don’t have to,” Coulson said.  “But it is time for dinner.  And I have a surprise for you.” 

 

AON gave him a wary look and leaned back away from the handler.  “Not so sure I’m going to like any sort of ‘surprise’ you have for me.”

 

“Oh, I am quiet certain you’ll like this one,” Coulson said confidently as he waved for the boy to follow him.  It wasn’t until he was out the door that the handler realized the boy had not moved from his spot on the bed.  Turning around, Coulson gave the boy an expectant look.

 

“I already told you, I am not going anywhere with you.”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Coulson turned back around to leave.  “Fine,” he called out over his shoulder.  “I guess you don’t want to meet Dr. Banner or Dr. Foster.”

 

Coulson smiled amusedly to himself when he heard a crash and curse as the boy scrambled to chase after him.  “Wait,” AON shouted as he ran up alongside the handler.  “Are you serious?!  You can’t joke about stuff like this, Suit.  They’re _here_?  As in, I could be breathing in their discarded carbon dioxide as we speak?”

 

Looking to the side, Coulson gave the boy a slightly disturbed look.  “Am I going to regret letting you meet them?  Is this going to turn into some crazy creeper-stalker type situation?”

 

“No, no,” AON shook his head emphatically.  “No, I promise.  But I just…” AON waved his hands around wildly.  “They are like my brain idols, man.  I’m just _excited_.  I am but a lowly servant worshipping at the altars of their brilliance.  I will be on my best behavior, I promise.  There is no way I would jeopardize an opportunity to meet one or both of them,” AON tried to assure him.  Coulson was not assured at all.

 

Arriving at the canteen, Coulson put out a hand to stop the teenager who was basically vibrating with energy.  “Alright, one condition for you getting to meet them is that you have to listen to whatever Agent Barton tells you.  I need to go deal with some other stuff and he will be in charge of you until I retrieve you later.”   AON stood there, eyes wide and nodding in agreement with everything he was saying.  Coulson found it extremely nice to have the boy’s easy compliance, but also slightly worrisome.

 

“Can I go now?”  AON asked as he stared fixedly at the door leading into the canteen.

 

Releasing his grip on the boy, Coulson nodded.  “Sure.”

 

As soon as Coulson released the teenager, he was through the door.  Funnily enough, he didn’t make it very far.  Coulson saw AON stop just one step into the room, mouth dropped open in shock as he stared across the room at the collection of people chatting away as they ate their dinner.

 

Coulson stepped up next to the boy and nudged his shoulder.  “A piece of advice.”  The kid managed to tear his gaze away from the table to look at Coulson, mouth still hanging open slightly.  “Try not to drool,” the handler smirked before turning away. 

 

The boy was still cognizant enough to yell out a rushed curse of indignation that followed Coulson out the door.  The handler just laughed to himself as he walked down the hallway.

 

 

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“Darcy, would you please just drop it?” Jane groaned as she took a seat next to Bruce.  “Clint already said Coulson was bringing him here for dinner.  You’ll see this mysterious hacker man in a couple of minutes.”

 

Bruce slid over on the bench to make more room when Thor dropped down on the other side of Jane.  He wasn’t sure why he had agreed to come here.  After overhearing Hill mention General Ross’s name, the physicist had quickly finished patching up Clint before running to find refuge in his lab.  Bruce hadn’t planned on leaving his lab for a while, at least until the sickening and overwhelming sense of dread tampered down a bit, but then Clint and Natasha had come to retrieve him for dinner. 

 

The pair had informed him that his presence was _required_ at dinner and there was no way he was getting out of it.   He had been able to ignore Clint’s badgering and Natasha’s withering glares up until Clint had almost knocked over one of the experiments going on and Jane had screeched for all of them to get out of the lab.  Jane Foster might be small, but she was also quite terrifying when she wanted to be.

 

 “But you know he’s being purposefully vague just to try and get under my skin,” Darcy whined as she glared angrily at the archer. 

 

“Yes and he is succeeding, which is precisely _why_ he is doing it in the first place,” Jane informed her, sounding much like a mother lecturing two arguing children.

 

“I don’t…” Darcy’s words were cut off when an angry yell resounded through the room.  The entire table turned to stare at the entryway where a teenage was glaring angrily at Coulson’s retreating back.  After a second, the young man turned to face the table and immediately blushed when he realized everyone’s attention was on him.

 

“Oh god,” they heard the teenager mumble as he shifted awkwardly on his feet.

 

“Hey, AON!  Come on over here,” Clint happily waved to the young man.  The teenager took a deep breath and then slowly made his way over to the table.  Clint patted the empty spot next to him and the teenager sat down stiffly as he stared at Bruce and Jane.

 

“I can’t believe this,” the teenager said in a whisper as he stared wide-eyed at Bruce and Jane.  Thoroughly confused, Bruce glanced over to Jane for some sort of explanation, but she looked just as lost as he felt.

 

Clint started laughing and everyone except for the boy, who continued to stare at Bruce and Jane, turned to look at him.  “Guys,” the archer said in amusement.  “This is AON, the hacker.  AON, you are seriously embarrassing yourself, but I believe you already recognize Dr. Banner and Dr. Foster.”

 

Clint’s comment about embarrassing himself seemed to snap the teenager out of whatever daze he was in and he immediately started rambling excitedly.

 

“Sorry, sorry.  I don’t mean to stare.  I just can’t believe that you’re actually,” the teenager’s hands motioned to the pair of doctors.  “ _Here_.  This is so amazing!  I cannot believe I am this lucky.  SHIELD can kidnap me anytime if it means I get to meet amazing scientist like you guys.  I have read almost every paper either of you have published.  And can I just say, Dr. Banner, that your paper on anti-electron collisions…” the boy opened and closed his mouth as if struggling to find the proper words to express himself.  “Mind.”  He raised his hands to his head and making a bursting motion.  “Blown.”

 

Bruce blushed slightly, never having heard anyone so blatantly praise his intelligence before. 

 

“No fair!” Darcy shrieked as she pointed accusingly at Bruce. “I have been trying to get you to blush for _weeks_ without succeeding and this kid manages to do it within _minutes_ of meeting you?!”  She then turned to the teenager and patted his head with a large and somewhat wicked grin on her face.  “Also, you are _adorable_ , all awe-struck-stupid.  I’m keeping him,” Darcy announced loudly as she started to pet his hair.  Bruce shuddered, feeling slightly sorry for the teenager.

 

 

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AON could feel the brunette girl still petting his hair, which was… _weird_ , but not weird enough to distract him from staring at Dr. Foster and Dr. Banner.  He still could not believe they were there, sitting right in front of him, doing something as ordinary as eating dinner.  How was this his life?  How was this even possible?  People like him didn’t get to interact with people like them.  It just didn’t happen. 

 

Except, apparently it did.

 

“So,” Dr. Foster smiled kindly at him and he almost felt like he was going to faint.  Which would be ridiculously embarrassing.  _Get yourself together, man._   AON forcibly calmed his thoughts so he could focus and not make a _complete_ fool of himself.  “What’s your name again?”

 

“AON.  It’s an acronym standing for…” AON cut off abruptly.

 

_Oh god._

 

He wasn’t _ashamed_ of what he called himself per se, he just didn't want them to think badly of him.  The name had personal significance and that’s all that really mattered.  He didn’t _need_ other people to get why he called himself that.  But…admitting what it stood for to his _idols_ of all people…it wasn’t something he was comfortable with.

 

“Awesomely Omnipotent Ninja,” Double-0 piped up from beside him and AON just turned to give the older man an incredulous look.  It was nice of him, really, to try and help out, but as far as attempts to help went, that was just _sad_.

 

Rolling his eyes, AON turned back to Dr. Foster.  “It stands for Apropos Of Nothing,” he admitted, because let’s face it, _anything_ was better than Clint’s ridiculous suggestion.

 

As he expected, AON received the customary winces and looks of pity from the remaining people at the table.  The hand on his head stilled for a second before resuming the petting.

 

Which reminded him…

 

AON turned to look at the girl beside him.  “Can you stop petting me?”

 

The girl just grinned widely, and somewhat scarily, before shaking her head.  “Nope!” She said brightly.  “You are now one of my little minions.  But don’t worry, you’re special, because you are just too cute for words.”

 

AON leaned away as far as he could, but just ended up falling against Clint.  Tilting his head back, AON shot a pleading look to his one ally.  “Help me?”

 

Clint smiled before pushing him upright.  “No can do, AON.  Darcy does whatever she wants.  It’s best to just accept it now.”

 

Did he say ally?  He meant enemy.  Clint was not his ally at all.

 

The girl, Darcy, slid her arms around his shoulders and tugged him closer.  “That’s right, little AON.  It is best to just give in now,” she cooed into his ear and AON shivered in fear.  This girl was clearly insane.  _Insane_.

 

“Darcy, let the boy go.  You’re scaring him,” Dr. Foster reprimanded.

 

“But…”

 

“No buts, Darcy.  Let AON go now,” Dr. Foster ordered.

 

Darcy gave him one last squeeze before releasing him.  AON quickly scooted closer to Clint and put as much space between himself and the crazy brunette as possible.  He shot Dr. Foster a look of thanks, forever in her debt for saving him.  As if she hadn't already been cool enough.

 

“AON,” Dr. Banner took off his glasses to clean them on his shirt.  “I’ve got this idea for an experiment involving a cyclotron.  Want to help me get started after dinner?”

 

His heart stopped.  Literally _stopped,_ for a second, before bursting into a rapid taboo against his chest.  His throat went dry and he stared in complete shock at the brilliant man before him.  His mind must be playing tricks on him.  There was absolutely no way Dr. Banner, _Dr. Bruce Fucking Banner_ , had just asked him for help on an experiment.  No. Way.

 

AON suddenly felt two fingers push his jaw up from where it had dropped open in shock.  “I think that’s a yes, Bruce,” Clint answered for him.

 

Nodding his head rapidly, AON rushed to agree.  “Yes!”  He squeaked embarrassingly.  He cleared his throat and picked the remaining dignity he had up off the floor.  “I mean, yeah, that would be cool,” he tried nonchalantly.  He didn't think he succeeded.

 

But Dr. Banner gave him a small smile and Dr. Foster gave him an approving nod.

 

AON didn’t think he’d _ever_ be able to wipe the wide grin off his face.  This day was awesome!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this seems completely OOC, but since Tony respects Bruce's work as an adult, I figured that as a teenager, he would be in AWE of anyone capable of that level of brilliant science. So yeah...hope you guys liked the chpt :)


	7. It's Alive!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AON has a Dr. Frankenstein-esque moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited- 9/16

Clint was whistling as he ambled towards the bowels of SHIELD headquarters.  His destination was the lab Bruce and Jane (and now AON) shared.  The kid had basically been living in The Cave, as he’d taken to calling it, ever since Bruce had invited him down there.  The only ones who could get AON to leave were Coulson and Darcy, the former by threatening AON’s procurement of coffee and the latter by simply walking into the lab if Jane wasn’t there to supervise the situation.

 

Turning around a corner, the archer slowed his pace when he saw Coulson having a rather heated (well, heated on one side) discussion with Jacobs.

 

“- tried talking to Director Fury but Agent Hill keeps preventing me from seeing him.  The hacker has been here for a week now and I want to talk to him!” Jacobs fumed, face red and blotchy.

 

“I’m sorry, but my answer hasn’t changed.  Director Fury has expressed who is and who is not allowed to meet him and you are not on the list.  If you wish to meet the hacker, then you must get permission from the Director first,” Coulson informed the enraged CST leader. 

 

Clint could see that Jacobs was getting ready to launch another verbal attack, replete with flying spittle, and decided to help his favorite handler out.

 

“Hey, Coulson,” the archer interrupted Jacobs tirade before it could get started.  “I need to talk to you about how we’re going to handle that infiltration mission in Nepal.”

 

Not missing a beat, Coulson nodded his head and turned back to Jacobs with a faux-apology at the ready.  “Sorry, Jacobs, but if you’ll excuse me, I really must go over the logistics of this upcoming mission with Barton and Romanoff.”

 

Jacobs opened his mouth to argue Coulson’s early departure from their ‘conversation’ but snapped his mouth closed with an audible click when the handler simply lifted an imperious brow.  Clint really needed to learn the art of speaking with his eyebrows; Coulson seemed to weasel his way out of a lot of things just by presenting one arched brow.

 

“Fine,” Jacobs growled out before turning away and angrily stomping back towards whatever hole the CST took refuge in.

 

“There’s not really a mission, right?”  Coulson asked as he joined Clint on his journey to The Cave.

 

Clint snorted and shook his head.  “You really think Hill would inform _me_ before you?”

 

Coulson shrugged his shoulders slightly.  “There’s a first for everything.”

 

They both knew that would never happen.  Depending on the type of mission, Clint would either go in ~~guns~~ bow blazing without proper preparation, or he’d hide and wait for the mission to be passed off to someone else.  Coulson was the voice of reason, the one who made sure Clint handled a mission as it should be handled. 

 

“So,” Clint peered sideways at his travel companion.  “Did Director Fury really make a list of personnel allowed to speak with AON?”

 

“Yes, but he made the list based on my suggestions.”

 

“And you don’t think it’s a good idea to let Jacobs meet AON?”

 

Coulson turned to look at Clint with that damned arched eyebrow.  “Do you?”

 

Clint thought about that for about half a second before shaking his head.  “Guess not.”

 

While it was true AON seemed to be handling this whole ‘being kidnapped by a secret government agency’ thing pretty well…there had to be a point at which everything just became _too much_.  Letting a bulldog like Jacobs loose on the kid could prove to be part of that _too much_.

 

Introducing the youngster to Bruce and Jane had been a good idea on Coulson’s part.  The archer could see how much more comfortable AON was surrounded by SCIENCE (yes, AON tended to talk about it as if it were some universal truth that science was the most amazing thing in the world).  Maybe the reason why AON refused to leave The Cave was because it was the only place he felt truly at ease, like how Clint felt in any of his multiple nests scattered throughout headquarters.

 

“What exactly is Fury’s plan for AON anyways?”

 

Coulson heaved a weary sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I honestly don’t know.  He’s been acting very strangely about the whole thing.  Every time I bring up the point that we need to come up with a more permanent solution for the boy, he just nods and tells me he’ll think about it.”

 

Clint opened his mouth and Coulson raised a hand to wave off the comment before the archer could even voice it.  “No,” the handler said firmly.  “We cannot just keep him here.”

 

“That isn’t what I was going to suggest,” Clint informed the handler. 

 

As much as Clint liked having AON around, he didn’t like the idea of anyone so young getting involved with SHIELD.  It had been hard enough coming to terms with enlisting Natasha so young, but with her upbringing, there really hadn’t been any alternative.  Clint knew the same wasn’t true of AON.  The boy’s talents opened up a wide array of opportunities.  He didn’t need to become a slave to SHIELD’s demands. 

 

Clint was already a little worried about how quickly AON was settling into life here at SHIELD.  AON just seemed to _fit_ into their group, like he was a missing piece finally falling into place, making their little family whole.  AON had so easily read all of them, picking up on their little nuances, and coming up with nicknames for each of them.

 

Bruce had become CY for Calm Yourself.  AON had said it was ironic because the quiet doctor was a Zen Master in order to control his other half.  They had all been more than a little surprised that AON already knew about Bruce’s alter ego but still acted so carefree around him.  The physicist had been a little bit withdrawn at first, but within an hour, AON had Bruce more carefree and _happy_ than Clint had seen the man in the numerous months he'd known the quiet, unassuming Doctor.

 

Natasha had become CAS (Crack A Smile) because, despite his best efforts, AON had been unable to provoke a good response out of Black Widow.  Natasha really should have realized that it would just make him more determined to break her carefully neutral mask.  On a few of his more outrageous attempts, AON had earned himself a few scowls and frowns, but never the ever-allusive smile.

 

Darcy had become ENO (Enemy Number One) because, despite her best efforts to seduce him to the dark side, AON was still extremely terrified of the brunette.

 

Jane was MC (My Coffee) Foster.  The first morning after AON had met Dr. Banner and Dr. Foster, the teenager had come quite close to losing his hand when he had tried to take the last cup of coffee before Jane had gotten her fill.  The kid loved his coffee too, but Jane’s addiction to the stuff made his love for the drink seem like little more than puppy love.

 

Thor was the only one that hadn't gotten a nickname, and according to AON, wouldn't likely be getting one in the future.  The hulking blonde demi-god had been upset by this news, claiming he too wished to engage in the 'comaraderie of nick-naming,' but AON explained that Thor was really the only moniker that could capture the _other-wordliness_ of the man.  How was AON supposed to come up with a new name for a _god_?  To show the slightly disheartened god that he still wanted to be friends, AON had offered Thor a box of pop-tarts, at Jane's suggestion, and Thor had considered him the 'most generous of friends' since. 

 

AON had even managed to understand how important a role Maria Hill played within the organization.  After a meeting with Agent Hill and Director Fury, he had taken to calling the second FIDO.  He told her it stood for Framework for Interdisciplinary Design Optimization, meaning that SHIELD would likely fall apart if she wasn’t there to keep everything in working order.  She had given him a friendly smile and left, after which AON revealed that it was also quite obvious that she was Fury’s loyal little dog.

 

So yeah, AON _fit_ … but that didn’t mean they had any right to keep him.

 

“I was actually going to say that Director Fury should probably come up with an answer sooner rather than later.  People are forming attachments quickly and it’s just going to get harder to say goodbye the longer he’s here.”

 

“I see… and are you included as one of those ‘people,’ _Double-0_?”  Coulson asked, emphasizing the nickname.

 

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Clint refused to respond.  He didn’t need to.  Coulson knew him well enough to already know the answer.  The handler had simply asked as a reminder to try and not get any _more_ attached than he already was.

 

“Steve’s due back tomorrow, right?  How’d his talk with the generals go?

 

Coulson decided to respect Clint’s need to change the topic of conversation and answered his inquiry. 

 

“As well as could be expected.  He’s convinced most of them that SHIELD is fully capable of handling Dr. Banner if an ‘incident’ should occur.”

 

“You know, taking isn’t going to work for much longer.  General Ross isn’t going to ‘play nice’ forever.  He’ll be coming after Bruce, with force, if we don’t figure out how to neutralize him.”

 

“Yes,” Coulson admitted, voice grim.  “I know.”

 

 

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Bruce stared in wonder as AON typed in new lines of code, adding depth and complexity to script he already had.  The physicist had never been more than ‘slightly above average’ at programming languages, and what AON was doing…it wasn’t even comparable.

 

“Is that…” Bruce pointed to small segment on the screen and AON nodded his enthusiastically nodded his head.

 

“Oh yeah,” AON said gleefully as his fingers flew over the computer keys.

 

“And it’s going to be uploaded to that frame you’ve been building?”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“Wow,” Bruce shook his head in slight disbelief, a wonder-filled smile spreading across his face.  “That’s amazing.”

 

AON’s fingers stilled and he titled his head up towards Bruce.  “You think so?”

 

Bruce laid a hand on AON’s shoulders and nodded his head in confirmation.  “Yeah, AON.  I really think so.” 

 

The doctor was still trying to adjust to having someone look up to him so completely.  AON had settled down a little bit after that first day, but there were still times when he looked to Bruce or Jane for validation.  Bruce had talked to Clint privately about AON’s past, or what little they knew of it, and from what it sounded like, AON was self-taught for the most part.  He’d never had a real mentor or teacher, something Bruce knew was important for a young academic to fully thrive.  AON needed a source of encouragement, a soundboard to bounce ideas off of, someone to question his theories in order to make them _better_ …

 

And if Bruce could be that person for him?  Well…Bruce didn’t really think there was anything that could make him happier.

 

AON grinned happily up at him before turning back to the screen and resuming his frantic typing.  “I’ve actually been wanting to do something like this for a while, but I never had the resources.  Been pretty limited to just writing random lines on scraps of paper or in notebooks or diner napkins, really anything present when an idea pops up.  And then when I came here and you said that I could use whatever I wanted…well, I guess it just seemed like the perfect opportunity to slap it all together and give my brainchild life.”

 

Bruce nodded along, not regretting his decision to give AON free reign over his lab tools at all.  If the young man could successfully upload the program into the body he’d been building for the past three days…well, Bruce would feel honored about just being able to witness it.

 

“When do you think you’ll be finished?”

 

AON bounced excitedly in his chair and wrote one last line before drawing his hands away with a flourish.  “Now!”  The teenager swiveled around in the chair and clapped his hands together.  “Want to help me?”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce said, a hint of childish excitement creeping into his voice.  “What can I do?”

 

 

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AON was crouched down in front of his ~~project~~ child, anxiously waiting for the program to finish uploading.  CY was seated next to him, tracking the progress. 

 

There was a small _ting_ sound announcing the completion of the upload.  CY reached over to disconnect the wires and AON reached out a hand to tap a finger against the camera lens.

 

“Hello?  Anyone home?”

 

There was a tiny whirring sound and AON looked excitedly towards CY who just nodded his head back towards the slowly awakening bot.  The robotic arm moved jerkily as the newly born AI started running through the boot-up protocols AON had written into its code.

 

“It’s moving!”  AON jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together excitedly.  “It’s alive!  It’s alive!!”  He almost felt like laughing maniacally, channeling his inner-Dr. Frankenstein, but had enough sense left to restrain himself.

 

“All it’s sensory systems seem to be in working order,” CY called out from where he was tracking the feedback data pop up on the screen. 

 

AON nodded his head, anxiously waiting for the bot’s start-up sequence to complete itself.  He wanted to test the bot’s learning ability, to see if the endless hours he had put into writing the code was worth the effort. 

 

Five minutes later, the bot was finally done booting up and AON tapped its lens to get its attention.  “Hello,” he greeted, crouching down to eye-level.  “My name is AON.  I’m your…creator.  Do you understand?  Make this motion for yes.”  AON made an exaggerated nodding motion with his head.  “And this motion for no.”  He shook his head back and forth.

 

The bot whirred and clicked, opening and closing its claw as it considered AON.  After a second it started moving its arm up and down, answering yes.

 

“Good boy,” AON praised the bot, petting its head as he stared in wonder down at the AI _he_ had created.  “That’s great.”

 

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“General Patterson and General Lyon both sought me out afterwards to communicate that they would remain supportive of any action SHIELD decided to take regarding Dr. Banner.  But I have to say that I am a little concerned about General Fredrickson.  He has a different political philosophy than General Ross, but both of them have been friends for a very long time and if pressured enough, he might be persuaded to take up General Ross’s opinion for himself.”

 

Director Fury absorbed the information in silence, fingers steepled in front of his face.  Agent Hill stood off to the side, face set in a serious frown.  Steve really wished he had better news to deliver, but General Ross was making a lot of racket about how ‘dangerous’ and how much of a ‘threat’ Bruce was and it was starting to make some of the other military officials nervous.

 

“Alright, I’ll be sure to take that into account, maybe make a call to personally discuss the matter with Fredrickson,” Fury said and Agent Hill made note of it on the tablet in her hands.  “Job well done, Captain Rogers.”  The Director got to his feet and waved for Steve to follow him.  The trio stepped out into the hallway and Steve kept stride as Fury led them towards some unknown destination.

 

“I understand that you haven’t been fully debriefed about the hacker situation,” Fury looked over at him and Steve nodded in confirmation.  “Well, he ended up being a little bit…younger than we expected him to be.”

 

“How young exactly?” Steve asked warily, more than a little suspicious at Fury’s pause.

 

“Sixteen.”

 

Steve’s steps faltered to a stop, Fury and Hill halting in response.  “But I thought you said Coulson detained him over a week ago?!  You kidnapped a minor?!”

 

The super-soldier was furious.  He’d been a little queasy about some of SHIELD’s practices…but this?  _This_ was completely unacceptable.

 

“Rogers, the situation is a little more…complicated than that.  He isn’t a normal minor.”

 

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and gave Fury an unimpressed look. “What does that mean?” 

 

“He doesn’t even know who he is.”

 

“You’re going to have to explain that statement to me very slowly and very carefully,” Steve bit out, aggravated that Fury was giving him a cryptic answer.  Fury nodded and waved for Steve to follow him, explaining the situation to Steve as they walked.

 

Ten minutes later, they arrived at Bruce’s lab and Steve had been fully debriefed on AON (not a reassuring name in the slightest).  The trio stood just outside of the entryway, peering inside to observe Bruce and AON without interrupting them as they scurried around some sort of machine that was swinging around madly.

 

With an artist’s eyes, Steve studied the young man before him.  The teenager was average height, but lean.  His hair was dark and unruly, befitting the air of unrestrained wild he gave off.  And his eyes…they just had so much _life_ in them.  Intelligence, wit, charm, confidence, arrogance.  A whirling vortex of words that could be read so easily just by looking at those dark, fascinating eyes.  Eyes that reminded him of…

 

“Hmm…” Steve made a sound of wonder as he studied AON more closely.

 

“What is it Steve?” Maria asked from beside him.

 

Steve tilted his head to the side, a melancholy gleam in his eyes as he considered the boy’s face.  “Nothing…he just kind of looks like someone I knew from before,” Steve said softly.  “Well, more like what I imagine he would have looked like; he was only eight when I saw him last.”

 

“Yeah?  Who does he remind you of?”  Hill asked curiously.

 

Steve remained quiet, eyes never leaving their acute examination of the teenager’s face.

 

“Rogers?” Fury prompted when the super-soldier fell into a prolonged silence.

 

“Huh?” Steve was roused from his thoughts, shaking off the beckoning lure of falling into his memories.  “Oh, um…Howard Stark.  He looks like what I imagine Howard Stark would have looked at that age.”

 


	8. Deja Moo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AON has heard those words before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited-9/16- fixed some nicknames to hopefully cut down on the confusion. Sorry guys, if it was getting to be too much :( I know I threw a lot of them at you really quickly
> 
> 11/20: I'm adding an abridged list of the nicknames used this chpt
> 
> CY (Calm Yourself) = Bruce  
> Double-0 = Clint  
> CAS (Crack A Smile) = Natasha  
> ENO (Enemy Number One) = Darcy  
> FOL (Fond Of Leather) = Fury  
> NOS (New-Old Stock) = Steve **introduced this chpt**

Once the AI came alive, AON had started trying to teach it things, _vital_ things, like where the AI needed to go to recharge himself when his batteries were running low, or which tools corresponded to which words so the AI would be able to help CY and AON out in the lab, or that Darcy was _Evil_ and he should try and chase her away from the lab any chance he got.  After hours of failed attempts, they’d only just managed to teach the AI the difference between a socket wrench and a soldering iron.  As a result of the _slow_ learning rate, AON had settled for lovingly calling the AI Dummy, which had received an eye roll from CY and a stupid-happy chirp from the bot.

 

On Day 2 of Dummy's existence, CY and AON were ~~failing at~~ teaching Dummy how to use the fire extinguisher when Director Fury came stomping towards them and pushed right up into AON’s personal space.

 

Flailing his arms, AON tried to scramble backwards to earn himself a little breathing room.  “Ah!  Dummy, attack!  Save master!”

 

Dummy got a grip on Fury’s leather trench and tugged insistently, but FOL just batted the AI’s arm away, eyes locked on AON.  AON was proud of his AI for listening to him, but too concerned about his seemingly imminent death at the hands of leather-ninja to give his bot the praise he deserved.

 

Fury reached out to grasp AON’s jaw, forcing the bewildered teenager’s head from side to side as the creeper-spy studied his face intensely.  Just as AON was about to push Fury away, the Director dropped his hold on the hacker, swiped AON’s coffee cup from the workbench and…left.  Just _left_.  As if any of what had just happened- and what the fuck had just happened? - was _normal_.  God, AON had thought Suit was bad about invading personal bubbles, but Fury took the cake.  No, scratch that.  Fury took the whole god damned bakery!  The teenager was kind of creeped out and a lot confused by what had just occurred.  After a moment of stunned silence, AON turned to CY with wide eyes. 

 

“Did he just…” AON scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “Was that his way of saying I don’t get coffee anymore? Am I being punished?”  AON's mouth dropped open and he pulled at his hair in a frantic motion.  “Oh god, did he find out I was the one who reprogrammed his email account to get spam mail from those salacious websites?!  Because I can totally reverse that…”

 

CY blinked his eyes owlishly at AON for a second, as if he was trying to decide how he should react.  Eventually the physicist settled for chuckling indulgently and rolling his eyes at the teenager.  “I’m not sure why Fury did that,” CY said.  The older scientist then turned towards the entryway where a tall, muscular blonde guy was standing there looking just as confused as they were.  “Oh…Hey, Steve.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Steve waved distractedly at Bruce in greeting, turning around to peer down the hallway after Fury.  He was contemplating chasing after the Director, because clearly something had just happened here…

 

“Do you know why FOL did that?”  Steve was shocked from his thoughts when AON suddenly popped up in front of him with an expectant look on his face. 

 

Taking a small step back, the super-soldier looked down at the young man in front of him.  “FOL?”

 

The teenager rolled his eyes and gave Steve an exasperated look as he waved his hand towards the empty hallway.  “Fury.”

 

“Oh…uh, no.  Sorry.”

 

AON frowned in disappointment and then tilted his head to the side as he studied Steve.  If Steve hadn’t already gotten used to people staring at him months ago, he probably would have blushed under AON’s intense gaze.  “So…you’re the Captain?”

 

Steve nodded in acknowledgment and AON made a thoughtful humming sound in his throat.  “And you’re the hacker, AON,” Steve replied, his words a statement more than a question since Fury had already told him who AON was.

 

“Right you are,” the teenager grinned widely.  “Although, I haven’t been doing much hacking since SHIELD kidnapped me.”  Steve winced at the word _kidnapped_ and made a note to himself to speak more on the subject with Fury or Coulson later.   “I’ve been a little distracted with other things.”  A machine wheeled up right next to the young man and AON bent down to pat the top of it.  “Like this little guy.  Dummy, say hi to the Captain.  Captain, this is Dummy.”

 

The machine raised an…arm? and made clicking and whirring sounds at him.  Steve stared in shock for a second before reaching out to shake the offered claw.  AON gave Steve a bright smile, seemingly happy with Steve’s reaction to the strange machine. 

 

“He’s an Artificial Intelligence,” the teenager explained as he popped back up to his feet.  “A thinking robot.  He was just born yesterday though, so he’s still got a lot to learn.”

 

Steve nodded along even though he wasn’t quite sure he understood what AON was talking about.  Before he could ask for clarification, Clint and Natasha walked into the lab.  The robot sped over to greet the newcomers and AON ran after Dummy to supervise, much like a concerned father would.

 

Now that the teenager was distracted, Steve went over to Bruce.  He could see the scientist tense as he approached and laid a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder.  Bruce heaved a weary sigh before dragging his eyes upwards to meet Steve’s gaze.

 

“General Ross is still making a lot of noise, but that’s all it is, Bruce.  Just noise.  I- _we_ \- won’t let him anywhere near you, okay?” 

 

Nodding his head slightly, Bruce accepted Steve’s words but still just seemed so tired of it all.  Steve couldn’t blame him.  Constantly being hounded after, never getting any sort of respite, had to be exhausting. 

 

“I know, Steve.  It’s just…” Bruce shook his head and wrung his hands together.  “I just wish this whole… _mess_ was over with.”

 

“Me too, Bruce,” Steve squeezed Bruce’s shoulder once before dropping his hand.  “Me too.”

 

 

 

 

 

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“Oh my god, Dummy!  You stupid, loveable bot!  You got CAS to smile!”  AON shouted as he pointed excitedly to the slight upward curve to Natasha’s lips. Clint had told her about the robot last night and she had wanted to see the thing for herself.  The archer was right, it was kind of like a puppy and she found it endearing.  But the second AON pointed out her smile, she immediately adopted her stoic mask once again. 

 

“What?!  No!  Come back!”  AON whined unhappily while Clint snickered into his fist.

 

“You know, CAS, it’s not a bad thing to show emotion every once in a while,” AON intoned sagely.  Natasha ignored the comment; coming from AON, the words didn’t really have much value. 

 

The teenager might broadcast emotions often and loudly, but Natasha wasn’t entirely sure how much of it was _genuine_.  Sometimes she would see this jaded look in his eyes that he masked by rambling excitedly and charming people with his antics.  AON was still a child, but he was also world-weary.  An old soul with a fresh face.

 

AON…confused her.  She could see a lot of herself in him and that was _unsettling_.  She knew that their lives, their childhoods, had been drastically different…but that didn’t necessarily mean that they hadn’t learned the same lessons. 

 

Everything AON did, he did with restraint.  He talked, a lot, but he never actually revealed much.  He showed off his intelligence, flaunted it even, and enjoyed engaging in bouts of sarcasm but- apart from that first day in the interrogation room- he hadn’t revealed anything else about his past.  And he certainly seemed to be avoiding asking important questions like why he was still here, what were they going to do with him, were they ever going to let him go?

 

It was like he didn’t care about- or more likely, was too scared of- the answers to those important questions.  So instead of asking, he just went on living, swept up in the current and not caring which path his life was set upon.

 

A high shriek broke Natasha from her thoughts and she looked over to see Darcy being…attacked? by the robot.  The AI was dousing her with white foam from the fire extinguisher. 

 

Once the spray came to an end, there was a moment of shocked silence before AON started laughing hysterically, wiping tears from his eyes.  The teenager bent down to give his robot a hug, lavishing it with praise at it chirped happily back at him.  Darcy glared death at AON.  Jane was next to her, only managing to hold in her laughter by biting on her lip.  Dr. Foster grabbed a towel from one of the workbenches and handed it to Darcy who proceeded to wipe the foam from her person.

 

 _Smart boy_...Natasha thought when she saw AON take advantage of Darcy’s distraction and make his escape.   He ambled over to where Steve and Bruce were, halting in his steps for a second when he registered the somber looks on their faces.  His eyes narrowed for a brief moment before he plastered a wide grin on his face and completed his journey to join the two.

 

“Oh Captain, my Captain!”

 

 

 

 

 

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Steve stopped mid-sentence, cutting off his hushed explanation of what had occurred at Fort Bragg to Bruce.  Stepping back a little, Bruce and Steve welcomed AON with strained smiles on their faces.

 

“Hello, AON,” Steve greeted.  “I…um, was there something you needed?”  Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  He still felt extremely uncomfortable about AON even being here, at SHIELD.

 

“Just wondering what you guys were talking about.”

 

Steve glanced to Bruce who was staring fixedly at the ground.  “Nothing,” Steve tried, receiving a skeptical look from the teenager.  “Uh, nothing important, anyways.” 

 

“Riiiight,” AON drew the word out.  The teenager looked to Bruce and the physicist just gave him a small smile.  AON frowned in disappointment but then turned to Steve with a grin.  “So, NOS, looks like you’re the only one I still need to get to know.”

 

“NOS?”

 

“Yeah, Bruce said you’re the _actual_ Captain America, like from the 40’s, right?  And that you were in some sort of natural cryogenic state or something, which is majorly cool by the way…so you’re NOS.  New-Old Stock.  It’s going to be your new name,” AON explained with a grin.

 

“But I already have a name.”  There was a brief flash of… _something_ across AON’s eyes at Steve’s words, but then the teenager was grinning amusedly up at him.

 

“Yeah, but this name is _better_ ,” he said, rocking forward on his toes a little. 

 

Steve leaned back a little.  “Okay?”

 

“So that’s a yes then?  I can call you NOS?”  AON asked innocently, but his eyes shone with mischievousness.

 

Steve laughed softly, shrugging his shoulders slightly.  “Something tells me, AON, that you’re not the kind of guy who waits for permission to do what he wants.”

 

This time the look AON gave him was anything but innocent.  It was full wickedness and delight.  “Too true,” AON grinned brightly.  “But CY here has been trying to teach me some social etiquette.”  AON leaned in to whisper in a conspiring manner, “don’t tell him, but I really only behave so he doesn’t take away my lab privileges.”

 

AON let out a yelp when Bruce walked up behind him and cuffed the back of his head.  “You behave because you know it’s the right thing to do,” Bruce admonished with an indulgent and fond look on his face.

 

Rubbing the back of his head, AON pouted at Bruce.  “But behaving is so _boring_ , CY,” he whined.  Bruce just rolled his eyes at the teenager.

 

Steve laughed at the interplay between the two, glad that AON had saved Bruce from drowning in all the stress and anxiety their conversation about Ross was sure to dredge up. 

 

…But it was also a little disconcerting. 

  

 

 

 

 

 

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“Where’s Clint?”  Steve asked as he settled down on the bench next to Darcy.

 

“He took AON to the shooting range, probably showing off again…” Darcy grumbled with a look of annoyance on her face.  “Stupid Legolas-wannabe.”

 

“You’re just jealous that AON likes Clint more than he likes you,” Natasha said with a small smirk on her face.

 

Darcy glared at the redhead and stuck her tongue out at Widow in retaliation.  “AON loves me.”  When Natasha looked pointedly at her hair, which was a little stiff and frizzy from the foam wash earlier, Darcy narrowed her eyes in anger.  “Admittedly, he doesn’t _know_ he loves me yet.”

 

“That’s because there is no love to know of.  AON is terrified of you,” Jane corrected as she picked up her coffee before taking a sip.

 

“And that’s an issue because?”  Darcy asked slowly, truly confused as to why fear would be counterproductive to developing a friendship.  Although, Steve wasn’t entirely sure that Darcy’s definition of ‘friendship’ was the same as anyone else’s.

 

Jane rolled her eyes at her young assistant and pointed an accusatory finger at her.  “It’s an issue because he doesn’t deserve the anxiety your attention induces.  Being at SHIELD is enough of an adjustment without adding you into the mix.”

 

“Jane!” Darcy let out an exaggerated gasp.  “You wound me!  Right here!”  The brunette clutched her chest dramatically as she winced in pain.

 

Jane let out an indelicate snort and rolled her eyes at Darcy’s theatrics.  Before Jane and Darcy got further worked up, Steve decided to interfere in hopes of getting some of the other’s opinion about AON.

 

“I have a question,” Steve addressed the table as a whole and saw everyone’s heads turn toward him.  “You guys are actually okay with AON being here?”

 

His question was met with silence.  “Should we not be, great Captain?”  Thor asked after a long moment, confusion written clear across his face.  “Do you sense something wrong with him?”

 

“What? No,” Steve shook his head in denial.  “There’s nothing wrong with him, but…I mean, doesn’t this whole _situation_ seem wrong to you guys?  He’s a minor!  He shouldn’t have been kidnapped and he certainly shouldn’t have been"  Steve waved his arms around, floundering for the right word.  "… _imprisoned_ here!”

 

Looking around at the group’s expressions, they all seemed shocked by his outburst.  After a moment, Bruce looked up at Steve hesitantly.  “He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, Steve,” Bruce said softly.

 

“Surely there must be _somewhere_ else that would be better for him than here.  SHIELD is no place for a _kid_ ,” Steve spoke forcefully, trying to get them to see that he was just trying to look out for AON’s best interest.

 

 “Well, I like having him here,” Darcy piped up.

 

“That’s not the issue, Darcy,” Steve sighed.  He felt bad for bringing this up- he could easily tell how attached Bruce, and the others, had become to AON- but Steve felt it was his duty to point out that AON was still just a kid.  Observing him throughout the day, Steve could tell AON was an extremely intelligent, sharp-tongued, and independent kid but even so…he was much too young to realize what he was getting himself into by associating with SHIELD. 

 

“He doesn’t _belong_ here.”

 

Bruce flinched away from Steve’s words, his shoulders hunching over.  Jane pushed up closer to Thor who wrapped an arm around her, his own displeasure evident by the sad frown on his face.  Darcy glared at Steve with petulance.  And Natasha stared down at her food, face as blank as ever.

 

After an uncomfortably long stretch of silence, Bruce looked up at Steve, dark eyes somber.  “You’re right,” Bruce said slowly, painfully.  “AON doesn’t belong _here_ ,” Bruce said, cutting a harsh glance to Darcy when she opened her mouth to protest.  Settling his gaze once more on Steve, Bruce quirked his lips upwards in that small, sort of broken smile of his.  “But he does belong with _us_.”

 

 

 

 

 

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“Double-0, dude, wait up!” AON hissed as he scrambled to catch up with Clint.  “Not all of us are used to climbing around in fucking air vents.”  The archer stopped at the juncture ahead, turning his head to watch AON’s slow progress.  The teenager attempted to navigate the drop in front of him and almost ended up falling down the vent before he managed to catch himself.  Double-0, the bastard, just laughed at AON’s ineptitude and the teenager flipped him off in retaliation.

 

“Why are we doing this anyways?”

 

Clint flashed him a grin and waved him forward, holding a finger up to his lips to tell AON to keep quiet.  Once the hacker was close enough, Clint leaned in to whisper lowly.  “So we can spy, of course.”

 

AON frowned in confusion, but when Double-0 motioned towards the grate below, he looked down and realized where they were.  The canteen was sprawled out underneath them.  He could see the rest of the group gathered there, eating dinner.

 

Lowering himself down, AON pressed his ear to the grate in order to listen to what they were saying. The archer was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, seemingly content to let AON have his fun.  The new addition to AON’s collection of super-people, NOS, was speaking to the group.

 

“…no place for a _kid_ ,” NOS snapped.  AON frowned at the tone of voice, unsure about what he could have possibly done to already piss the guy off.  He’d been relatively well-behaved throughout the day.

 

“Well, I like having him here,” ENO said brightly, making AON wince.  It didn’t particularly make him feel good, or _safe_ , knowing that the scary woman had taken so much of a liking to him.  He should have nipped that whole thing in the bud as soon as the petting started.  Seriously.

 

“That’s not the issue, Darcy," NOS said tiredly.  "He doesn’t belong here."

 

_Worthless piece of shit…knew we shouldn’t have taken you in._

_Stupid brat!  The only reason you’re here is because no one else would take you!_

_You don't belong here.  
_

_You're not worth the money we get paid to take care of you.  You’ll be leaving at the end of the week._

_God, will you just shut up?!  No one cares!  You’re just a stupid orphan!_

_You don't belong here.  
_

_I’m sorry.  I really tried, but…I've got the others to take care of.  You just don’t fit in here._

_You don’t belong here!!_

 

AON gasped out a breath, shaking his head to try and dislodge the words from his mind.  Swallowing thickly, AON leaned closer, desperate to hear someone refute NOS’s words.  The Captain didn’t know him.  They’d just met.  Maybe AON had done something wrong.  Maybe he’d unknowingly offended the guy.  He could fix whatever the issue was.  He just needed time.  He just needed someone to stick up for him.  The others knew him.  Surely they’d say something.  He wasn’t that bad, right?

 

…Right?

 

“You’re right.”  AON let out a quiet sigh of relief hearing CY say that.  And then he froze, realizing that CY wasn’t agreeing with _him_.  He was agreeing with the _Captain_.  

 

“AON doesn’t belong here.”

 

_You don’t belong here…_

 

AON scrambled back from the grate as if burned, trying to put as much distance between him and those damning words.  Shuffling backwards, AON turned to flee, crawling through the vents as quickly as possible to escape.  He had to get out of there.  He felt like the walls were closing in on him.  It was hard to breathe.  God, why couldn’t he breathe?!

 

It wasn’t until he was falling out into the brightly lit hallway that AON realized Clint was following him.  A hand grasped his shoulder tightly, spinning him around to face the flustered archer.

 

“AON…they didn’t mean-”

 

“I think it’s pretty difficult to misinterpret what I heard,” AON snapped, dropping his gaze to the ground when he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes.  “Don’t worry about it,” AON shrugged off Clint’s hand and turned away.  “You guys aren’t the first ones to decide I’m not good enough to keep around.”

 

 

 

 

 

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Early the next morning found Director Fury sitting at his desk, looking at a picture of him and Howard Stark.  In Stark’s arms was a baby, just a few weeks old, and so very tiny. 

 

Fury heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.  He should have put more effort into finding the truth, figuring out what had really happened.  He should have asked Howard more questions.  He should have known…

 

A succinct knock broke through the whirl of self-doubting thoughts and Fury called out for his second to enter.  Hill handed him the file and Fury stared at the closed folder for a brief moment before flipping it open.  His eyes scanned the papers in front of him and he felt a strange combination of guilt and relief wash over him.

 

Nodding to himself, Fury picked up his phone, already having decided how he would proceed if indeed AON turned out to be the missing Stark child.  On the third ring, a pleasant voice answered.

 

“You’ve reached President Stane’s office.  This is Pepper Potts speaking, how may I help you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, so sorry. It took me longer than expected to write this chpt. I think it's because I feel like I sorta half-assed the last chpt and I DIDN'T want to do the same thing for this one.
> 
> Big THANK YOU to everyone who commented last chpt; sorry I didn't do individual replies like usual. Also, so no one feels left out, thanks to all who kudoed, rec'd, or are just reading this story :)
> 
> In other news...I'm gonna be starting back up at school soon, so I am probably going to be slowing down the update schedule (ie. every other week instead of every week)


	9. Past and Present (Collide)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solve one issue and a dozen more seem to pop up...such is the way of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/20: adding abridged list of nicknames used this chpt
> 
> CY (Calm Yourself) = Bruce  
> Double-0 = Clint  
> Suit = Coulson  
> CAS (Crack A Smile) = Natasha  
> FOL (Fond Of Leather) = Fury

When he heard the quite _snick-snick-snick-swoosh_ of the door unlocking and then opening, AON didn’t even bother looking away from his inspection of the nondescript ceiling.  He waited for Suit to speak, but silence continued to blanket the room.

 

Eventually, AON gathered up the remaining bits of courage and self-esteem he had and turned to look at Suit.  Except…that most definitely wasn’t Suit.

 

“Uh…” AON sat up and pushed his back against the wall as he turned to face the stranger currently studying him with a look of shock.  “Hi?”

 

The man narrowed his eyes at AON, shock melting away into anger.  “You’re the hacker?!”  The stranger asked, incredulous.  AON wasn’t sure how to respond.  He usually liked bragging about his talent and intelligence…but there was something about this man- an underlying madness in his eyes- that made AON hesitate before replying.

 

“Yeah,” the teenager answered slowly.

 

“What?!” The man shook his head back and forth in denial.  “Not possible!  There is absolutely no way that a…” the man flung out an accusatory arm in AON’s direction, “kid managed to get past my security team!”

 

It took AON just a moment to parse out the angrily growled words before a big grin spread across his face.  The teenager crossed his arms over his chest and slouched back against the wall, giving off an air of confident casualness.  “Oh, so you’re Jacobs.”

 

“Yes,” the man seethed. 

 

“Dude, no reason to get your panties in a twist.  I’ve hacked dozens of other agencies, and let me tell you, SHIELD was definitely the most challenging.  So be proud, my man!”

 

Jacobs ground his teeth together, his face turning an angry, blotchy red.  “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take much comfort in that.”

 

AON just shrugged his shoulders.  It wasn’t like he could control how people responded to him- even though he wished he could- and if Jacobs wanted to be all upset by his perceived ‘failure’ then that was his decision.

 

“Was there something you wanted?”  AON asked after Jacobs had lapsed into silence once again, just glaring at him.  It had to be a SHIELD thing.  Glaring 101.  Jacobs wasn’t as good as Fury or CAS, but AON highly doubted that anyone ever would be as good as them at the whole death-glare thing.

 

Jacobs hissed out an annoyed breath or air and stalked forward, grabbing onto AON’s arm and dragging him out of the room.  “I _wanted_ to disprove the rumors about how young you are,” Jacobs ranted, tightening his grip on AON’s arm.  “But obviously that won’t be a possibility.  So instead, I am going to set up a little challenge for you and show _everyone_ that you aren’t as great as Fury and Coulson think.”

 

AON was almost certain that FOL and Suit didn’t think he was ‘great’ but... whatever.  The teenager had perked up as soon as the word ‘challenge’ left Jacobs mouth. 

 

“Yeah?”  AON asked excitedly.  “I’m so totally down for that.”

 

A good hack job was just the thing he needed to take his mind off of those ~~words~~ things he didn’t want to be thinking of.

 

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Coulson walked into the debriefing room, sliding into a seat around the round table that was already filled by the Avengers team, Dr. Foster, and Ms. Lewis.  The handler had assumed that Fury had called them here for a mission, but the presence of the astrophysicist and her assistant made him think that assumption had been wrong.

 

“…haven’t seen him since yesterday.”  Coulson tuned into the conversation, quickly realizing that the topic of discussion was AON.

 

“I haven’t either,” Bruce frowned.  “He never came to the lab this morning.”

 

“Has _anyone_ seen AON today?”  Dr. Foster asked, looking at each of them in turn.  Everyone shook their head no, but Coulson didn’t miss the brief flash of guilt that darkened Clint’s face at the question.

 

“Agent Barton,” Coulson called for the archer’s attention and smiled slightly to himself when he saw Clint sink further down into his chair.  Clearly, Clint knew something that the rest of them didn’t.  “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

 

Clint hung his head down and mumbled something under his breath, earning himself a smack upside the head from Natasha and a ‘speak up, you idiot, or I will tase you!’ from Darcy.

 

The archer slid his chair further away from Darcy and looked up at the rest of the team.  “AON may have overheard the conversation you guys were having about him yesterday in the canteen.”

 

“Wha…how?”  Steve looked confusedly at the archer before his face cleared in understanding.  “You took him to the vents.”  Clint nodded in confirmation.  “Okay, so he overheard the conversation.  I get why that would make him avoid me, but why is he avoiding everyone else as well?”

 

“Well, you might have brought up the topic of conversation, Steve, but it isn’t like AON’s going to be all ecstatic about Bruce agreeing with you,” Clint said blandly, but his eyes held a little bit of anger when he glanced over to Bruce.

 

“But I didn’t…” Bruce started denying it only to trail off and wince.  “Shit, you guys didn’t hear the entire conversation, did you?”

 

Clint frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Would it have made a difference?  AON was already kind of devastated when he heard you say he didn’t belong here.”

 

“It would have made a difference because I told Steve that while AON might not belong here,” Bruce paused for a second, cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment, but he held Clint’s gaze steadily.  “He does belong with us.”

 

Clint glanced around the table like he was trying to figure out if Bruce was telling the truth.  Natasha nodded slightly, Steve was looking at Bruce worriedly, Darcy was grinning broadly, and Jane and Thor were smiling warmly at the doctor.  Accepting of what Bruce had said, Clint let out an explosive sigh and dropped his head down against the table with a heave _thunk_.

 

“Well fuck,” the archer groaned unhappily. 

 

“We should go find him,” Dr. Foster looked around at the team.  “Explain things, right?”

 

“We can’t right now, I’m afraid,” Coulson spoke before anyone could move.  “We still don’t know why Director Fury called us here.”

 

“Fuck that!”  Clint said as he hopped to his feet.  “It obviously isn’t all that urgent or he would be here already.”  The archer strode towards the exit, a determined look on his face.

 

The door swung open in front of him, revealing Fury, angry scowl already present on the Director’s face.  “Going somewhere, Agent Barton?”  Fury asked in a deceptively calm voice.

 

Clint quickly spun on his heels and strode back to his chair, flopping back down with an innocent look on his face.  “No, sir.”

 

“Good,” Fury stepped further into the room, followed in by Hill and two other people.  The only reason that Coulson even recognized the President of SI was because he had met Obadiah Stane a few times back when SHIELD and SI used to do business.  But that had been years ago.

 

 

 

 

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After their last failure at securing a contract with SHIELD two years ago, Stane had not heard from the agency again, despite his numerous attempts to open up a line of communication.  And now, years later, Fury himself was calling to ask for a face-to-face meeting. 

 

Obadiah had been more than a little shocked when Miss Potts had relayed the message to him, but had jumped on the opportunity all the same.  He had been in New York City checking up on the main east coast branch of SI and therefore had been able to stop by SHIELD less than three hours after Fury’s call.

 

The Director of SHIELD had been vague about what the meeting would entail, but Stane had always been a quick thinker and felt like he’d be able to handle whatever Fury threw at him. 

 

…He had underestimated the conniving man.

 

“Can you repeat what you just said,” Stane said slowly.  Disbelief was palpable in the room and Stane was at least placated by the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had been blindsided by the announcement.

 

“I said that the teenager we apprehended about three weeks ago and currently going under the moniker AON is none other than the lost child, Anthony Stark.”

 

A small choked off sound made Stane glance to the side where he saw Captain Steve Rogers go completely pale.  The man to his side, a Dr. Banner if Stane remembered correctly, laid a comforting hand on the Captain’s shoulder and Steve nodded shakily in thanks.

 

“I’m assuming you have proof,” Stane stated, knowing that the SHIELD Director would not have called him here unless he was certain, but Stane needed to see this proof for himself because this was just… unbelievable.

 

In response, Fury waved a hand towards a display screen where the results to a DNA test and a snippet of a transcription from an interrogation with the teenager were being presented.  Stane took a moment to scan the evidence.

 

“Amnesia?”

 

“Yes, he lost all autobiographical memories from before he woke up in the hospital.”

 

“I see…”

 

Stane’s mind was a maelstrom of action; thoughts, plans, _possibilities_ were racing through his mind.  It was obvious why Fury had called him here, and Stane was perfectly okay with what Fury would be asking of him, provided, of course, that the boy was _useful_.

 

“And why had you apprehended him in the first place?”

 

“He’s a hacker,” Agent Barton spoke up, a hint of pride in his voice.  “Got past the Cyber-Subterfuge Team’s digital security more than a few times so Fury sent Coulson to collect him.”

 

Stane glanced to Fury for confirmation and smiled when the Director nodded in agreement.  “Impressive.”

 

 _This_ , this he could work with.  Clearly the boy was brilliant, much like all of the Stark line before him, and Stane could use him to help get SI back on top.  Just having a _Stark_ back with the company would lead to more backing from their shareholders, not to mention the new inventions the boy would come up with in the years to come as part of the R &D division.

 

“Can I see the boy?”

 

Fury nodded and motioned for Stane to follow but a protest sounded from a young brunette woman seated at the table.

 

“Hold on,” the brunette said, “why is this Stane guy even involved?”

 

Fury glared at the girl for her outburst but answered the question anyways.  “Because, Miss Lewis, Obadiah Stane is Anthony Stark’s godfather and will therefore be taking custody of the boy.”

 

 

 

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AON had thought the idea intriguing when Jacobs had proposed they play a round of Capture the File.  He’d explained that it was basically like Capture the Flag.  They each had a file they had to defend, and the game was over when either one of them secured the contents of the other’s file.

 

So yeah, sounded fun, but it turned out not to be fun.  At all.  Jacobs wasn’t as good as AON thought he would be.  The man was way too old-school, sticking to dated maneuvers that AON had learned how to counteract when he was eight.  The guy had no innovation.  AON suspected that his underlings were the ones with the talent.  Based on the chatter from the onlookers though, most of them didn’t realize AON had won this game a long time ago.

 

“…Jacobs has him on the run.”

 

“I knew there was no way a kid could be that good.”

 

“I don’t know; the teenager definitely seems to know what he’s doing.”

 

“No, see!  Look!  Jacobs almost has the file!”

 

There was a moment of silent anticipation and then a wide, triumphant grin flashed over Jacobs face.

 

“Got it!”  The CST leader leaned back in his chair and smirked at the teenager, smug and haughty.  “Sorry, kid, maybe a few more years of experience will do you good.”

 

AON raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh in the man’s face.  “Don’t you think you should check the file before you claim you’ve won?”

 

Jacobs frowned and quickly went to open the file he had secured.  As soon as the man opened the file he realized his mistake.  AON just laughed and shook his head as the decoy file tagged with a virus sent Jacobs’ computers crashing, ‘System Failure’ flashing across all his display screens.

 

“God dammit!” Jacobs cursed as he tried to reboot his system.  Looking up at the teenager, Jacobs sneered unhappily at him.  “This doesn’t mean you’ve won.  You don’t have my file either.”

 

AON snorted, typed in a command, and displayed his captured file on the overhead screens for all to see, making sure to highlight the timestamp on the bottom corner.  “Dude, I captured your file within the first five minutes.”

 

Jacobs clenched his jaw in anger as he took in the proof of his failure.  “What have you been doing this entire time then?!”  Jacobs asked with a glare.

 

AON typed in a different command to display his current activities to the room.  There was a brief moment of shocked silence and then a burst of laughter and applause from the onlookers.

 

The teenager smirked at a fuming Jacobs and shrugged nonchalantly.  “Playing Galaga, of course.”

 

Jacobs let out an angry growl, jumping to his feet and stalking towards AON.  The teenager, sprung up and tried backing away.  God, these SHIELD agents really needed to learn how to lose gracefully.  Violence was not the answer!

 

Before Jacobs could grab hold of AON, Double-0 was jumping between the two, his bow drawn and aimed at the charging CST leader.  Jacobs skidded to a halt, shock and fear making him go pale.  The man held up his hands in surrender and backed away slowly.

 

“I wasn’t going to harm the boy.”

 

Double-0 didn’t disarm his weapon until Suit called for him to stand down.  AON looked up to one of the observation decks and saw the entire Avengers team there, along with a few others he didn’t know, watching him intently.  AON met CY’s gaze for a second before dropping his eyes to the ground and hunching his shoulders.

 

“Everyone out!”  FOL barked and the crowd quickly exited the room.  AON went to escape with the departing rush of people but FOL’s frustrated yell had him stopping in his tracks.  “Not you, AON!”

 

The teenage hacker backed up until he could lean against the wall and then crossed his arms over his chest unhappily.  He could hear the group of people descending the stairs but refused to look up at any of them. 

 

“AON,” CY called his name hesitantly but the teenager didn’t move to respond.  After a minute of awkward and tense silence, voices started filling the room.

 

AON eye’s flashed up to the display screen, hands curling into fists when he saw security footage of yesterday’s conversation playing overhead.  “I already heard what you said, CY,” AON hissed, hoping his anger would mask the hurt he was feeling.  “I don’t need you to rub it in.”

 

CY shook his head sadly and just motioned for AON to watch the screen.  Biting the inside of his cheek, AON turned to glare at the screen.  He tried not to flinch as those _words_ echoed around the room, but he couldn’t quite control the way his breath hitched slightly as a sense of betrayal and aching loss lanced through him.  And then…

 

“But he does belong with _us_.”

 

AON’s eyes went wide with shock and he turned to CY with a questioning look, trying to keep the small flame of hope from burning through him.  But when he saw CY’s reassuring smile, AON let a wide grin light up his face.  A small bubble of laughter built in his chest as sheer happiness washed over him.

 

“You really mean that?”

 

“Of course,” CY answered, no hesitation. 

 

“So…I can stay?”

 

And just as quickly as that flame of hope had lit up, it was ruthlessly snuffed out.  AON could easily read the answer in the way CY dropped his eyes guilty to the floor. 

 

“AON,” Fury stepped forward.  “We have something important we would like to discuss with you.”

 

 

 

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Coulson wasn’t entirely sure what reaction he had been expecting of AON when Fury told him they had discovered his identity…but it surely wasn’t the wild anger with which the boy confronted the Director.

 

“NO!” AON yelled, eyes wide and frantic.  “Stop!”  The teenager cut across Fury’s words.  “I don’t want to know!”

 

Everyone looked at the teenager in shock.  “Why wouldn’t you want to know?”  Darcy asked what everyone was wondering.

 

AON sneered harshly at the ground, foot kicking at the cement in an agitated motion.  “Because while I might not have ever gotten back any memories of a name, that doesn’t mean I didn’t get any memories back!”

 

“What does that mean?”  Coulson asked in a carefully neutral voice.  “You remember something of your past?”

 

AON let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating, causing a few of the people gathered to flinch at the sound.  “Yeah, I remember a shit ton of _pain_ and a whole lot of _anger_ aimed at me.”

 

“As in…” Bruce swallowed thickly, hand shaking slightly as he tugged at his hair frantically.  “You think you were abused.”

 

AON gave a sharp nod and Bruce launched to his feet, skin flushing a slight green.  “I need to get out of here,” Bruce gasped out, everyone parting to let the man exit.  AON moved to follow him but Clint reached out to grab onto his arm, halting the teenager. 

 

Thor stepped forward with a small, pained smile.  “Do not worry, my young friend, I will see that no harm comes to the doctor.”

 

Following the Asgardian’s departure, a stifling silence settled over the room until Fury turned to look at Stane with narrowed eyes.  “Did you know of the abuse?”

 

Stane shook his head in denial.  “No, of course not.”  Stane waved Miss Potts, who looked slightly shaken but mostly composed, forward and whispered something to her.  Miss Potts nodded and started tapping away at the tablet in her hands.  “But I do know someone who can either confirm or deny the boy’s claims.”

 

Miss Potts held out the tablet for Stane to view and he nodded before reaching into his pocket for his phone.

 

“Who are you calling?”

 

Stane finished typing in the contact and then held the phone up to his ear before answering Fury’s query. 

 

“Edwin Jarvis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...so I was looking back at the original outline for this story and...I don't even...it was only supposed to be 9 chpts long! Which is obviously not true anymore because I'm not even close to being done. This plotbunny now has a mind of its own; I am no longer in control!
> 
> ...If I ever had any control to begin with XD


	10. The Price Of Inaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the worst thing you can do is nothing at all.

 

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“…any university you wish to attend.  And, of course, once you get your degree, there will be a job waiting for you at SI,” Stane smiled at the teenager as he made his offer.

 

Everyone looked to AON, trying to see how he would react.  The teenager didn’t say anything, didn’t let anything show on his face.  He simply got up from his seat and calmly walked out of the room.

 

 

 

 

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Clint rose to his feet, intending to follow after the boy, but Fury held up a hand to stop him.   The archer glared pointedly at the Director, but waited to hear out whatever it was that Fury wanted to tell him.

 

“You have thirty minutes.  After that, you’ll be leaving with Agent Romanoff to retrieve Jarvis.”

 

Clint opened his mouth to question the necessity of sending both of them, but before the archer could say a word, Fury shook his head.  “No, Agent Barton.  Jarvis has important information about what went on in that household.”  Fury stepped in closer to whisper the last bit to his agent.  “And he’ll know if Stane was really as naïve as he claims to be about the abuse.  I need to know the truth before I allow him to take Anthony.”

 

“AON,” Clint corrected automatically.

 

Fury leveled a serious look on Barton.  “His name is Anthony, and the sooner everyone accepts that the easier it will be to give the boy the future he deserves.”

 

Not wanting to waste any more time arguing technicalities, Clint left the room in search of AON.   Along the way, the archer kept an eye out for Bruce because he really wished he would have some backup for the coming conversation.  Bruce was better at the emotional stuff than Clint was.  And AON was already shaken enough by Fury revealing his identity; the kid didn’t need some ill-thought-out comment from Clint to make his day any worse.

 

It took the marksman fifteen minutes to find the boy.  AON was hidden in a corner of Bruce’s lab, two large machines creating a little enclave that the boy had tucked himself into.  Dummy was parked right in front of the teenager, making soft chirping noises as AON absentmindedly petted the robot.

 

“…Anthony,” Clint spoke haltingly, the name sounded strange on his tongue.  It was too formal, too strict and constrained in a way that AON simply wasn’t. 

 

“Don’t,” the teenager glanced at the archer, his eyes dark and weary.  “Don’t call me that.  That’s not…” AON shook his head, mouth turned down at the corners.  “I’m not that person.  I’m not whoever it is you guys want me to be.”

 

“No one is expecting you to be anyone other than who you are.”

 

“Bullshit,” AON hissed lowly, the word more a tired exhale than any testament to building anger.  “Stane is the first person to ever offer me something even close to resembling a home, and his offer is conditional on the fact that he expects me to take up the mantle of Anthony fucking Stark.”

 

Clint wished he could say AON didn’t need to go with Stane, but those words would just ring false with the empty promise of something _more_ , something the Avengers just couldn’t offer AON.  It didn’t matter whether or not they _wanted_ to keep AON; the fact remained that they _couldn’t_.

 

“Would being Anthony Stark really be so bad?”

 

AON titled his head back against the wall, seeming to consider the question carefully.  “No,” he said slowly.  “Not really, I guess.”

 

The archer waited for the teenager to continue, but the boy remained silent, so Clint prompted him further.  “Then why did you react so badly to discovering who you are?”

 

A humorless laugh echoed through the large room and Clint shifted uncomfortably on his feet.  AON met Clint’s questioning gaze, the teenager’s lips twisted into a self-deprecating smile. 

 

“Who the fuck said I’ve discovered who I am?”

 

 

 

 

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Jarvis stared out the window of the transport vehicle, trying not to be too discomfited by the oppressive silence radiating from the two agents sitting up front.  They hadn’t said a single word to him since they introduced themselves back at his loft.  In any other situation, he would have lectured them about the necessity for proper manners, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to do so.

 

He had been surprised when Mr. Stane telephoned earlier that morning, taken aback when the man proceeded to ask him questions about whether or not the late Mr. Stark had abused little Anthony.  Immediately on the defensive, Jarvis had demanded to know why Mr. Stane was making such inquiries.  The answer he received in turn left him numb, only able to gather his senses enough to demand SHIELD bring him in so they could discuss things in person.

 

Anthony Stark was alive.

 

Upon hearing those words, Jarvis had been more happy and sickened than ever before in his life.  Of course, Jarvis was beyond happy that his young master was still alive and healthy, but he was disgusted with himself for not having done more for Anthony all those years ago.

 

Inaction would always remain his greatest failing.

 

He in no way believed Anthony would forgive him; Jarvis did not think he _deserved_ to be forgiven.  But just seeing the young Stark alive would be enough to ease his mind and soul. 

 

The former butler startled from his thoughts when the SUV suddenly lurched to a stop.  Taking in the surroundings, Jarvis realized that they were now in some underground vehicular annex.  The two agents slid out of their seats, the woman moving to open the door for Jarvis.  Nodding his head in thanks, Jarvis quickly followed after Agent Barton while Agent Romanoff brought up the rear of their little procession.

 

After ten minutes of weaving their way through a mess of hallways, Jarvis came to the conclusion that he would not be able to find his way back out alone.  It was quiet possible that Director Fury had designed SHIELD headquarters to be purposefully confusing as a defensive maneuver.  Or it could have been that Agent Barton was purposefully trying to make Jarvis feel lost.

 

Agent Barton finally slowed his furious pace and waved Jarvis into a rather oppressive room, a room that looked like an interrogation room.  Jarvis took his seat quietly and smiled politely when Agent Barton looked to him, clearly expecting some sort of protest.  Frankly, Jarvis did not care about whether they indulged him with trivial comforts; his one and only purpose in being here was to see Anthony.

 

With a huff of annoyance, Agent Barton strode back out the door, signaling for Agent Romanoff to follow.  The two departed and Jarvis was left to entertain himself.  He wasn’t entirely sure how long they left him there- it was hard to tell the passing of time when there was no natural light, nor noise, nor activity to base an estimate upon- but eventually Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff returned with Director Fury.

 

The Director had a rather impressive scowl on his face and barked out for his agents to leave them.  Once the two agents had departed, Fury turned to Jarvis with a strained smile.

 

“Jarvis,” the Director nodded in greeting, pulling out the chair across from him.  “It’s good to see you again.”

 

“Yes, I do have to say that the circumstances under which we find ourselves now are drastically better than those thirteen years ago.” 

 

 

 

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_(Flashback)_

 

 

Jarvis was humming quietly to himself as he finished packing.  He did feel terribly guilty for leaving Anthony this week, but his goddaughter had just had a baby and this was the only time Jarvis would be able to visit his friends in the foreseeable future.  Howard was due to leave for a business trip the following morning, so Jarvis was not concerned that Anthony would be left alone with the elder Stark.

 

Five hours later found the butler waiting at the airport, sighing when it was announced his flight would be delayed an additional thirty minutes.  Jarvis returned to his book, falling into the fantastical world the words constructed in his mind.  He managed to get through another chapter when his cell phone started ringing.  Glancing at the screen, Jarvis hastened to answer when he saw it was Missus Stark calling.

 

“Hello, Missus Stark,” Jarvis greeted kindly.

 

“Jarvis,” Maria Stark replied, a slight slur to her speech that made Jarvis think she already had more than a few cocktails flowing through her bloodstream.  “Where are you, Jarvis?”

 

“I am scheduled for vacation this week, Missus Stark.  I will be returning in a week’s time.  I am sure one of the other servants can help you with whatever it is you need.”

 

“Oh…” Missus Stark breathed out, seemingly to have forgotten that Jarvis would be gone from the Stark residence this week.  “But if you’re not here then who will take care of Anthony?”  Missus Stark muttered to herself.  Jarvis was about to respond when his mistress continued.  “Where _is_ Anthony?”

 

Jarvis’s heart froze for a second before taking off in a wild tattoo against his chest.  “Missus Stark,” Jarvis broke through Maria’s drunken rambling.  “You were supposed to pick Anthony up from school, Missus Stark.”

 

“Nonsense, Jarvis,” Maria tsked over the phone.  “It’s your job to retrieve Anthony from school.  That’s what we pay you for.”

 

Jarvis was on his feet before she finished speaking.  Hastily grabbing his bag, the panicked man ran towards the exit.  “Missus Stark!  Have you seen Anthony at all today?  Have you talked to the other servants?  Have they seen Anthony?”

 

“Calm down, Jarvis,” Missus Stark snapped.  “There’s no need to get all frantic for nothing.  I’m sure the boy is fine.”

 

Grinding his teeth together, Jarvis slid into the nearest taxi and told the driver to take him to the Stark Mansion as quickly as possible.  “Yes, Missus Stark, I’m sure he is fine.”  _Please, please, please be fine!_   “Missus Stark, I will be back at the mansion in forty minutes.  If you find Anthony, please let me know.”

 

“But I thought you were going on vacation?”

 

“Not anymore,” Jarvis swallowed thickly, trying to force his terror back down.

 

“Well, okay then.  I’ll see you in a bit, Jarvis.”

 

Jarvis ended the call and promptly dialed another number.  He tapped his fingers nervously against his leg as he waited for Martha to answer.  On the fifth ring, the Stark’s chef finally picked up.

 

“Jarvis?”  Martha spoke, voice heavy with sleep.  “I thought you were supposed to be on a plane right now?”

 

“Martha,” Jarvis choked out.  “Please tell me you saw Anthony at dinner.”

 

There was a tense moment of silence in which Martha seemed to sense something was wrong.  “No,” she said slowly.  “I figured he was spending the night with a friend or something.”

 

Jarvis closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing but all he could manage were panic filled gasps.  “Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

 

“Jarvis?”  Martha called out over the phone.  “What’s the matter?  Is Tony okay?”

 

Jarvis tried to speak, tried to tell her he didn’t know if Anthony was okay because he didn’t know where Anthony was!  But his labored breathing made it too difficult to get the words out.

 

“Hey man, are you alright?”  The taxi driver asked, looking at Jarvis through the rear view mirror.  Jarvis nodded his head in a jerky motion, earning himself a disbelieving glare from the driver.  “Warn me if you’re going to throw up so I can pull over.”

 

“Jarvis?!  What’s going on?”  Martha yelled, grabbing his attention once more.

 

“I’m not sure yet…but,” Jarvis ran a shaky hand down his face, trying to settle his nerves.  “I think Anthony may be missing.”

 

 

 

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“What happened that nigh, Jarvis?”  Fury questioned, voice low and _almost_ pleading.  “I knew Howard, and I cannot believe he would have just abandoned his son like that.”

 

Jarvis paused for a moment, eyes dark with the weight of many secrets.  “Unfortunately, Director Fury, the man you knew as Howard Stark was not the entire picture.  You saw but a glimpse of the man, the parts of him that he _wanted_ you to see.”

 

“So he did just abandon Anthony?”

 

“Yes and no.”

 

 

 

 

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_(Flashback)_

 

 

Jarvis stumbled through the front door in his haste to enter the mansion.  Martha and a few of the other household workers heard the commotion and met him in the entryway.  When Martha shook her head worriedly at Jarvis’s hopeful look, Jarvis felt as if the whole world was collapsing in on him. 

 

“Missus Stark?” 

 

“Asleep.”

 

“Mister Stark?”

 

“In his study.”

 

Nodding to himself, Jarvis took off for the west wing of the mansion at a brisk pace.  He saw muted light filtering out from Mister Stark’s study and softly knocked on the heavy oak door.

 

“Enter.”  Jarvis quickly opened the door upon garnering permission.  Howard Stark was studying a file, paper in one hand, crystal tumbler full of whiskey in the other.

 

“Sir…”

 

“Jarvis, what are you doing here?”  Howard asked without even bothering to look up from the file he was reviewing.  “Weren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

 

“Yes, Sir.  But, you see, the thing is…”

 

“Oh, do spit it our, Jarvis.  As you can see,” Howard waved the tumbler towards the paper-laden desk, “I am quite busy.”

 

“Anthony is missing.”

 

There was a pause and then Howard finally dragged his gaze away from the file to look at Jarvis.  The crystal tumbler hit the table with a heavy _thunk_ , amber liquid sloshing back and forth within the glass.  “If this is your idea of a joke, Jarvis, then I must admit that I fail to see the humor in it.”

 

Howard’s gaze was dark and threatening, anger simmering just under the surface of tumultuous control.  It was a look Jarvis had come to know well over the past decade or two.  It was just the alcohol, Jarvis told himself.  _It’s always the alcohol._

 

“Mister Stark, I assure you that I am very serious.  Your son is missing and we need to call the authorities.”

 

“Stop lying to me!”  Howard slammed a fist down on his desk.  The tumbler jerked and tipped over, spilling its contents across the desk, whiskey staining everything it touched.  The man abruptly rose to his feet, striding angrily out of his study and down the hallway.  Jarvis followed closely behind, nearly crashing into Howard when the man came to a sudden stop outside of Anthony’s bedroom.

 

Mister Stark flung the door open and growled when he saw the bed empty.  Swirling around, he pointed an accusatory finger at Jarvis.  “Where is my son?!”

 

“Mister Stark, as I said before, no one has seen him since school,” Jarvis replied, hands clenching together at his sides.  They were wasting time indulging in Howard’s drunken rage; they needed to call the police!

 

All of a sudden, Howard collapsed onto the bed, as if all his energy had been stripped away.  “Oh god,” the drunken man groaned.  “Oh my god…what did I do?”

 

Jarvis moved in closer, kneeling down beside the bed and trying to parse together some sort of answer from Howard’s manic rambling.

 

“Sir?”

 

“But I thought…he didn’t…there was no proof…”

 

“Mister Stark, please, what are you talking about?”

 

“He didn’t give me any reason to believe…there was no proof, Jarvis.”

 

“Mister Stark…”

 

“You have to understand, Jarvis, there was no reason for me to believe him.  He just called and started demanding things…and you know that I don’t respond well to threats or demands.”

 

“Who called, Mister Stark?”

 

“He had no proof! No picture, no sound clip, nothing.  Why should I have believed him?”

 

“Howard!”

 

Howard’s head snapped up, looking every bit the lost, young boy Jarvis had once known him to be.  “Jarvis,” Howard whispered brokenly, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.  “He took my boy, Jarvis.  He took my boy and I told him to fuck off.”

 

 

_Nine hours later…_

 

 

 

Jarvis forced himself to watch as a young policeman handed the small, bloodied jacket to Howard, knowing full well that he was just as responsible for Anthony’s death as Howard, Maria, or the man who had taken him.

 

Jarvis stayed just long enough to hear Mister Stark’s friend, a Director Fury, confirm the blood was Anthony’s before taking leave from the Stark residence.  He never returned.

 

 

 

 

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“It was the alcohol then?  Howard was intoxicated and didn’t realize what was happening when the ransom call came in.”  The breath of relief Jarvis heard in Fury’s voice only served to bring out that dark rage he had been burying deep down inside himself.

 

“Do not overlook the point in me telling you this story, Director Fury,” Jarvis spoke coldly.  “Yes, I do believe that Howard would have handled things in the appropriate manner had he been sober.  But the point of the matter is that he was not sober.  Howard _chose_ to drink heavily, every day, knowing full well that it turned him into more of a monster than a man.”

 

“…so he did abuse Anthony?”

 

Jarvis met Fury’s gaze evenly.  He was no longer bound to Howard Stark in any way.  For so long, Jarvis had remained quiet, loyal to the memory of a ghost child he sometimes glimpsed in the shadow of the cold, bitter man Howard Stark had become.  But no longer…

 

“Yes,” Jarvis finally said what he should have revealed so many years ago.  “Yes, he did.”


	11. A Child of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some glimpses into Steve's perception of a young Howard Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been a while since I updated, so just a reminder: 
> 
> CY (Calm Yourself) refers to Bruce 
> 
> Double-0 refers to Clint
> 
> CAS (Crack A Smile) refers to Natasha.

“You are certain you are well?”

 

Bruce gave a jerky nod, feeling exhausted and irritable.  The transformation back always left him feeling itchy, like his skin was too tight.

 

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and Bruce looked up to meet Thor’s earnest gaze.  “It is not a sign of weakness to feel so strongly about the unfortunate past our young friend suffered.”

 

Wincing slightly at the reminder, Bruce offered Thor a small smile.  “I know…” 

 

A moment passed and then Thor looked up towards the stormy sky.  “Shall we return then?”  He asked, looking back down at Bruce for an answer. 

 

Closing his eyes, Bruce took a few deep breaths to steady himself, to quiet the roaring of the beast inside.  “Yeah.” 

 

Thor dropped his arm to grasp Bruce’s waist and then lifted his other arm to spin Mjolnir in a lazy loop.  Bruce slid his eyes shut as the ground fell away beneath his feet. 

 

 

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AON looked up when CY entered the lab, easily noticing how exhausted the man appeared.  Dummy whirred to life, coming out of his sleep-mode, and went to greet CY.  AON pulled his legs up against his chest and rested his chin atop his knees.

 

“You’re back.”

 

CY nodded slowly, steps heavy as he approached the teenager.  “Yeah, I’m sorry about running off like that.”

 

AON shrugged his shoulders in easy forgiveness, but remained quiet.  After a moment of awkward silence, the teenager patted the spot next to him.  CY quirked a small smile and slid down onto the concrete ground next to AON.

 

“I’m too freaking old for this,” CY commented after a moment of shifting around, failing to find a comfortable position on the hard ground.

 

AON snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes.  “CY, you hold painful looking yoga poses for ‘fun.’  How exactly is sitting down uncomfortable compared to that?”

 

CY tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.  “The transformation…it’s a little tough on the body,” the scientist admitted quietly.  “Makes me feel sore for a while after, hours to days, depending on what the other guy got up to.”

 

AON bit back all the questions he wanted to ask about CY’s other side, but knew enough about the older man to know his “anger-management issue” wasn’t a topic he liked to discuss.  AON felt grateful enough that CY had offered up _any_ information about what his transformation did to him, what it cost him.

 

Squeezing his legs tighter against his chest, AON watched as Dummy whirled around the lab attempting to “clean it up.”  Dummy ended up just making more of a mess, but it was amusing enough for AON to let the bot get away with it.  After this horribly long day, a little bit of levity was more than welcome, not matter how brief it was.

 

“Where’s everyone else?”

 

AON glanced over at CY but the man still had his eyes closed.  “Double-0 and CAS went to go pick up this guy named Jarvis who’s supposed to confirm Stane’s story that he didn’t know about…well, you know,” AON trailed off, not sure if he should say the word abuse around CY since it was clearly some sort of trigger for the guy.

 

“Oh…”

 

 “Yeah,” AON said tiredly, eyes going back to supervise Dummy.  After another few minutes of silence, AON spoke again.  “I remember him.”

 

That seemed to grab CY’s attention.  “Who?” He asked, sitting up a little straighter from where he had been slouched against the wall.  “The Jarvis guy?”

 

“Yeah,” AON admitted.  “Well, sort of.”  AON uncurled his legs when Dummy approached, resting a hand on the bot’s head and patting it gently.  “Not anything specific.  But the name is kind of…familiar.”

 

“How so?” CY asked, a little bit of urgency in his voice.

 

AON shrugged, not really sure how to put how he felt into words.  There weren’t any concrete memories, not even the intense sensory memories he associated most of his forgotten childhood.  “The name just feels…safe.”

 

“Oh,” CY slouched back against the wall, voice almost relieved.  “Well,” he looked at AON, “That’s a good thing, right?”

 

“I guess.” 

 

It certainly wasn’t a bad thing.  But did it really matter?  The Jarvis guy was simply there to confirm whether or not Stane knew about the abuse.  What did it matter whether AON felt some stupid sentimental connection to a man he couldn’t even remember?  Fury had already told him that he’d be leaving with Stane when everything was said and done.  SHIELD didn’t want him; CY and Double-0 had already decided they wouldn’t keep him…

 

AON definitely wasn’t going to get his hopes up by putting his faith in some phantom security blanket from his past.

 

 

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“Steve?”

 

The Super Soldier stopped, his back tensing and muscles going taut.  He reached out to steady the haphazard swing of the punching bag.  Steve curled a fist against the side of the bag.  He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the worn leather. 

 

Slow footsteps sounded through the quiet of the gym.  A small hand landed at the center of his back, rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles.  Steve turned his head to the side and stared sadly at Darcy.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

 

 

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_(Flashback)_

 

_Boom!_

 

Everyone in the dining commons launched to their feet, grabbing whatever weapons were on hand.  No bomb alarms were sounding and no alerts were made that the base was under attack but all of them were prepared to fight.  Tension hung heavy in the air.

 

Steve scanned the room, eyes narrowing in on the thin tendril of black smoke filtering out from the kitchen.  Before he could move to investigate, the door burst open and a tiny, rumpled body flung itself into the main dining room.

 

A young Howard Stark stood there wheezing as he tried to get a lungful of clean air. Everyone in the dining commons watched on in confused amusement as the boy straightened himself out and flicked exploded bits of food off his clothes.

 

“Right, well I may have slightly miscalculated the heating rod calibrations for the oven.”

 

There was a moment of stunned silence before the booming voice of Mr. Stark echoed through the room.   “Howard!!”

 

The boy let out a small _eep_ before taking off at a run.  Everyone laughed when the furious elder Stark stomped off in search of his trouble-making son.  Steve just shook his head, more than accustomed to Howard’s shenanigans by that point. 

 

Steve never would have thought it a good idea to bring a child onto a military base, especially during wartime, but even Steve couldn’t deny that Howard Stark was good for morale.  The child had a way of making the soldiers forget about the horrors of the war, even if for just a moment.

 

 

 

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“I used to know Howard Stark.  From before.”

 

The hand on his back stilled for a moment, Darcy releasing a soft sigh of sympathy.

 

 

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_(Flashback)_

 

“Steve!  Bucky!”

 

The two soldiers paused their sparring match just in time to be tackled by a fifty-pound ball of energy.  Steve’s reactions were fast enough to catch the skinny eight year old around the waist and swing him up into the air.  Bucky let out a grunt of pain when he received a stray kick to the gut.

 

“Jeez, your bony legs have got to be the deadliest weapon ever produced by a Stark,” Bucky joked, tugging on one of Howard’s legs. 

 

The young boy stuck his tongue out at Bucky and squirmed in Steve’s arms, wanting to be put down.  Once Steve had settled him back onto solid ground, Howard grinned up at the two soldiers and reached into his pocket.

 

“Here!”

 

 The two soldiers stared dumbly down at the two lug nuts sitting in the center of Howard’s palm.  Steve glanced over to Bucky who just shrugged his shoulders in response.  Quirking his head to the side, Steve gently picked up one of the lug nuts and looked at it curiously. 

 

“Uh…thank you, Howard.”

 

“They’re a guarantee,” the child said.

 

“Of what?”  Bucky asked as he reached out to pick up the remaining lug nut.

 

“Of your return,” Howard informed them in that you-are-an-idiot tone of his.

 

The two soldiers glanced sideways at each other, both unsure about how to respond.

 

Unperturbed by their silence, Howard went on to explain.  “Cause, you see, I overheard my Dad and Colonel Phillips talking about your next mission and how they were worried you guys wouldn’t make it back,” Howard frowned a little but then shook his head and pointed to the lug nuts each of them held.  “But those two lug nuts are the last parts I need for my latest project and I figure if I give them to you guys to hold onto, then you _have_ to return so I can finish.  Great idea, right?”

 

Steve curled his hand into a tight fist around the lug nut, trying not to break under Howard’s expectant gaze.  Bucky luckily saved the moment by kneeling down to drag Howard into a tight hug.

 

“Yeah, kiddo,” Bucky closed his eyes and squeezed the boy tight against him.  “It’s a great idea.”

 

Three weeks later, Steve returned to the base with a haunted look on his face. 

 

…Howard’s project remained unfinished, one lug nut short.

 

 

 

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“He was so young…so innocent back then.”

 

Darcy wrapped her arms around Steve, offering any comfort she could.  Steve crumpled a little, limbs going heavy as he returned to embrace.  “People change, Steve.”

 

Steve buried his face into Darcy’s hair; his eyes clenched shut as more memories assaulted him.  “I know,” he admitted brokenly.  God, did he know.

 

 

 

 

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_(Flashback)_

 

 

 “Dad said you’re leaving in the morning.”

 

Steve looked up to see Howard standing in the doorway.  Setting his sketchbook down on the table, Steve beckoned Howard to join him at the small table.  He let out a sad sigh when Howard refused to budge, the boy’s arms crossed tightly over his chest as he continued to stand by his escape route.

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“Risk level?”

 

Steve frowned, a little devastated that Howard even knew a phrase like that.  War had forced the kid to grow up far faster than he should have. 

 

“Fairly high.”   Howard wasn’t looking for false reassurances and Steve wouldn’t insult the boy’s intelligence by offering them.

 

Howard glared angrily down at the ground, posture defensive and tense.  “My birthday is in two weeks.”

 

Steve heard the question Howard refused to ask: _You’ll be there, right?_  

 

“Howard…” Steve faltered, unsure of what to say.  He wished he could assure the boy he’d be back in time for his birthday, but that just wasn’t a promise Steve was willing to make, especially when he wasn’t all too sure he’d be able to keep it. And ever since Bucky…well, the boy had learned not to _ask_ for empty promises like that.

 

Howard raised his head; his eyes already filled with unshed tears.  The boy swayed on his feet, as if unsure about what his next plan of action was.  After another moment of indecision, Howard straightened himself up and strode toward Steve.

 

Steve winced when the boy held a hand out, wanting nothing more than to just pull the child into a hug.  Slowly extending his own hand, Steve grasped Howard’s small hand in his own and watched sadly as Howard forced a blank mask onto his face.

 

“Bye Steve,” Howard gave one terse nod and then fled.

 

Captain America went down with Red Skull’s plane the day before Howard Stark’s ninth birthday.

 

 

 

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“How’re you feeling?” Darcy asked as she handed Steve a mug of hot tea.

 

“Better, thanks,” Steve said before taking a sip; the hot liquid was comforting as it settled deep within him.  “Sorry, you know, about breaking down like that.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Darcy brushed it off easily.  “I’ve got plenty of experience being a shoulder to cry on.  Although I must admit that my girlfriends from college being broken up over some stupid boy seems a tad bit trivial in comparison to…well,” she made a waving motion towards Steve, “All that stuff you’ve been keeping bottled inside.”

 

 Steve frowned in thought before taking another sip of tea.  When SHIELD had first unthawed him, Fury had forced him to attend therapy sessions to adjust to the new age.  The Super Soldier had thought he’d already mourned the loss of all people he’d left behind in another time, but maybe he’d been wrong.

 

“I think the thing that hurts the most is knowing that Howard was already changing.  I mean, I in no way expected him to become…abusive…but just in the time I knew him, I’d already seen him change from a carefree child to a war-hardened one.”

 

Darcy nodded slowly, eyes a little unfocused as she considered what Steve had said.  “It makes sense now.”

 

Curling his fingers tight around the mug, Steve tried to absorb all the warmth it offered.  “What makes sense now?”

 

Darcy crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her chair.  “Why you’re so adamant about AON not staying at SHIELD.  You already saw what a war could do to a kid.  Not that AON would consider himself a kid, but compared to the rest of us, he’s still so young.  And it might not be like an official war, but SHIELD is fighting against every enemy out there.”

 

Leaning forward, Darcy patted Steve’s arm in a comforting manner.  “You just don’t want AON to become another casualty of war.”

 

 

 

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“General Ross?”

 

“Yes,” General Ross barked over the phone.  “Who is this?”

 

“My name isn’t important,” a voice replied.  “What is important is that I believe I know a way to help you get what you want.”

 

“And what is it that you think I want?”

 

“Bruce Banner.”

 

There was a pause, and then General Ross’s suspicious voice sounded over the line.  “And how exactly do you plan on capturing Bruce Banner for me?”

 

“Oh, I don’t plan on capturing him.  I plan on him offering himself up to you without a fight.”

 

General Ross let out a derisive snort of laughter.  “You do, do you?”

 

“Yes, you see, Dr. Banner has recently become quite attached to this man, a child really, that goes by the moniker AON…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, how obvious was it that this is what the story has been gearing up to? I am so completely predictable *sighs* oh well XD


	12. Old Friends and Old Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AON has the worst luck ever. No, seriously.

“May I see Anthony?”  Jarvis asked hopefully.  He’d answered all of Fury’s questions and cooperated at every step; surely the Director would let him see the child who had been haunting his dreams for over a decade now.

 

“You may.  But I don’t want you to expect anything from him, Jarvis.  Chances are he won’t remember you and he isn’t exactly trusting of people,” Fury said as he waved for Jarvis to follow after him.

 

“I understand, Director.  And believe me, I do not want anything except to see he is alive and well with my own eyes.”  Jarvis dared not hope little Anthony would remember him.  He was not entirely sure he wanted the boy to remember him for he had tragically failed to protect his charge before.  “What will happen to the boy now?”

 

“Stane is technically his legal guardian.  Anthony will be going with Stane for now, and once he turns eighteen he is free to choose what he wants to do.”

 

Jarvis nodded his head in acceptance. He couldn’t expect that Fury would allow Anthony to go with him.  But maybe he’d be able to work out something with Stane so he could keep in contact with the boy, assuming, of course, that Anthony was okay with Jarvis wanting to keep in touch with him.

 

 

 

 

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Clint felt bad for the kid.  AON looked so fucking tired, his eyes downcast and feet scraping across the floor as he followed them to the canteen.  The teenager had wanted to go back to his room- and be left alone- but Bruce has insisted he get something to eat first.

 

AON was quiet, not saying a single thing, until they all settled into their spots at the table.  But even then, all he said was a muted thanks to Jane when she handed him a huge cup of coffee. 

 

Conversation was stilted, no one at the table feeling comfortable or relaxed enough to fall into the usual banter.  Even Darcy was more reserved than normal, staying close to Steve and rubbing his arm in a soothing manner.  Clint made a mental note to ask Natasha if she knew what was up with that later.

 

Hearing the door swish open, Clint looked towards the entrance to the canteen and saw Fury enter with Edwin Jarvis.  The marksman shifted imperceptibly closer to AON, offering support he had a feeling AON would need in a few seconds.

 

“Anthony,” Fury called out as the pair approached the table. Everyone turned to watch AON, who didn’t even bother looking up.  He looked lost in his own thoughts.  Clint nudged AON’s shoulder and nodded towards the Director.

 

“Anthony,” Fury said again once he was closer.  “There’s someone who would like to meet you.  This is-”

 

“Jarvis.”  Shock spread throughout the room, surprise most evident on AON’s face.  “I remember you,” the teenager whispered.  “Holy shit!” He laughed, a slight thread of hysteria creeping into the strained laughter.  “I remember you!”

 

“Anthony…” Jarvis stepped forward, halting when he saw the teenager scrunch his nose in distaste. 

 

“Please don’t call me that.”

 

Bobbing his head once, Jarvis easily accepted the request.  “Would it be possible for us to talk?”

 

AON looked uncertain, fingers nervously tapping against the tabletop.  Clint was just about to decline on the teenager’s behalf when AON stood up. “Alright,” AON nodded towards an empty table in the opposite corner of the canteen.  “We can go over there.”

 

Everyone watched the pair intently as they left.  Jane tried to strike up a conversation with Bruce about some experiment, but the distraction proved futile.  Everyone kept shooting covert glances towards the corner table wanting very much to know what AON and Jarvis were talking about.  Clint studied AON’s face, relaxing slightly when he saw that though the teenager looked a little uncomfortable, he didn’t look like he needed saving.

 

 

 

 

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As soon as AON had seen the man, a brief snapshot had flashed across his mind.  He remembered being in a bathtub, Jarvis gently washing his hair and chiding him for managing to dye his hair blue.  It was the first solid memory he had from his childhood.  And it was much more pleasant than the usually fuzzy things he remembered.

 

AON accepted the offer of a talk because he was hoping more memories would be triggered.  But now that he was sitting alone with the man, AON felt distinctly uncomfortable.  He had no idea what to say and Jarvis was looking at him like he was seeing a ghost.  Which, given the fact that everyone had apparently thought him dead before, AON guessed was a rather accurate assessment.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Startled from his thoughts, AON looked up at Jarvis with a frown on his face.  “Why?”

 

Jarvis’s face dropped, a dark shadow passing over his aged face.  “I failed you so badly.  It’s my fault you went missing.”

 

AON swallowed thickly, not liking the idea that the only man he could now distinctly remember from his past being responsible for his kidnapping.  “It is?”

 

Nodding solemnly, Jarvis began explaining what had happened that day.  After Jarvis finished his tale, AON felt confused.  It was strange, because he felt he should be more upset that his parents had so obviously not cared for him like real parents should.  But he wasn’t truly upset about that and instead felt relief that Jarvis wasn’t actually to blame.  Maybe it had to do with the fact that his parents were dead so there was no way to salvage a relationship, while Jarvis was here, now.

 

“I um…” AON shifted uncomfortably.  “I don’t blame you.  You couldn’t have known that my mother would…forget about me.”

 

“Anth-”

 

“AON.”

 

“AON,” Jarvis repeated slowly.  “You’re parents, they did love you, don’t doubt that.  But Howard and Maria…they were unprepared, I believe, to have a child.  They didn’t know what to do with you.”

 

“I don’t think that _not_ being abused is too much to ask for,” AON snapped, an overwhelming sense of unfairness crashing over him.  He bit his lip hard, trying to stave off the tears he could feel stinging his eyes.  He _refused_ to cry over the parents he never even knew.

 

“No, you’re correct,” Jarvis agreed softly.  “You have every right to be angry with them and me.  None of us acted right by you, AON.  And I am sorry they aren’t here to make it up to you now, but I am hoping that you’ll give me the chance to earn your forgiveness.  Would it be alright if I kept in touch with you?”

 

AON blinked harshly, forcing the tears back and then looked up at Jarvis.  “Yeah,” the teenager gave him a tentative smile.  “I think I’d like that.”

 

 

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It was surprisingly easy sneaking into the boy’s room.  He had no worries about getting past security for he had been the one to create the camera system and security checkpoints.  The only thing he really had to be concerned with was getting past the night patrols, but given that he had been working at SHIELD for over a decade, most of the guards let him pass by with nothing more than a curt nod.

 

Two other men were with him; they were young soldiers who had somehow made it past SHIELD’s - his - security checks and had infiltrated the organization under Ross’s orders.  If Jacobs hadn’t planned on betraying SHIELD anyways, he might have been more annoyed.  As it was, he was happy to have some muscle support in case something went wrong.

 

It was a little past three in the morning, the dead hour at SHIELD where the late-nighters had just settled in to sleep and the earl-risers were an hour or two away from waking.  Jacobs swiped his master-keycard across the panel and waved for one of the soldiers to enter the room while the other kept watch. 

 

The whole thing was taken care of quite efficiently.  The teenager was kept under with chloroform and light enough to be easily carried by the larger of the two soldiers.  Jacobs used his knowledge of the night rotations to avoid any contact with the guards and the trio, with their bounty in tow, made it to the vehicle annex without any trouble. 

 

Jacobs couldn’t help but laugh at how simple it had been.  “Well done, my boys,” Jacobs slapped his fellow conspirators on the shoulder, his laughter abruptly cutting off when they glared blandly at him.  “Right,” he couged awkwardly, “Well, where are we taking him exactly?”

 

“Near Fort Drum.  General Ross has access to a secluded building there where we won’t be disturbed.  Once we get settled, he wants you to work on secure-communiction with SHIELD.  They can't track it.”

 

“Of course, they won't,” Jacobs scoffed.  The soldier nodded once and continued driving in silence; the second soldier kept a close eye on the unconscious teenager.  Realizing that neither of his travelling partners was going to be much company, Jacobs settled back into his seat and decided to get some rest before the next part of the mission was initiated.

 

 

 

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AON let out a groan as he came back to consciousness.  His throat felt dry and his nose burned slightly when he inhaled.  The teenager struggled into a sitting position, his arms shaky as he tried to put his weight on them.

 

“What happened?” He asked as he rubbed his eyes clear, receiving no answer.

 

AON swung his legs off the bed and took in his surroundings.  This was definitely _not_ his room at SHIELD.  In fact, in wasn’t much of a _room_ at all.  It was more like a concrete cell.  It was bare save the small bed he was currently sitting on and a dirty sink in the corner.  He craned his neck to look at the small whole in the floor beside the sink and gagged when he realized it was the ‘toilet.’

 

Heaving himself to his feet, AON went to the barred door and tried to look down the hallway.  He could see a light coming from under another door down at the far end.

 

“Hello?”  The teenager yelled.  “Anyone out there?” He could hear people speaking in the other room but got no answer.  “Hey!”  After another minute of no reply, AON huffed and turned away from the cell door.

 

Casting his eyes about, the teenager spotted a small red light coming from a corner.  AON narrowed his eyes at the camera and heaved himself to his feet. 

 

“Hey!  What the fuck is going on here?”  He knew someone was watching him because the camera moved to watch his angry pacing, but still he received no reply.

 

 _Kidnapped, again?_ AON let out a hysterical laugh. _How the fuck does this shit always happen to me?  
_

 

 

 

 

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“Hey, Bruce,” Clint called out as he entered the lab.  “You seen AON this morning?”

 

Bruce pulled away from the microscope he head been using .  “No.  Have you?”

 

The archer shook his head and crouched down to pat Dummy on the head.  The bot chirped happily at him and Clint smiled.  The thing was like a puppy.

 

“How bout you, little guy?  You seen your creator?”  The robot swung its arm back and forth and whirled around the lab in sweeping circles as if searching for the elusive teenager.  “Guess that’s a no,” Clint said with a laugh and Bruce quirked a smile at the robot’s behavior.

 

Clint heard the distinctive click of Coulson’s polished shoes and turned to greet the handler with a wide grin.  All good humor drained from the marksman when he saw the solemn look on Coulson’s face.

 

 “We have a problem.”

 

 

 

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The room was dead silent as the team stared at the screen.  No one could quite process what their eyes were seeing.

 

“Who is it?  Who took him?”  Bruce asked, watching the grainy video of AON pacing the short length of a cell.

 

“We know Jacobs was involved, as well as two SHIELD trainees,” Coulson informed them briskly, walking over to the touch-screen and pulling up a security image.

 

There was a large shot of the vehicle annex.  Coulson zoomed in on the far corner and the team was just able to make out the fuzzy image of Jacobs standing next to a jeep as two men loaded AON into the backseat.

 

“Jacobs?” Clint growled angrily from beside Bruce.  “How did we not know about this until now?  The time-stamp says this happened six hours ago!”

 

“One of the techs on night-watch noticed a glitch with the camera feeds and managed to fix it.  We called for Jacobs to get an explanation but he was nowhere to be found. We assumed there had been an attack on SHIELD and that Jacobs had been taken,” Maria spoke, arms crossed behind her back.  “No one thought to suspect AON had been the actual target.  About twenty minutes ago we received a link to this live video feed.  After that we found this image and realized how mistaken we were about Jacobs,” Hill finished, mouth set in a grim line.

 

“And no other contact has been made?  No demands?”  Steve asked, voice calm as he tried to slip into his Captain America role.  Bruce wished his other persona was as helpful in these types of situations.  Until they found who exactly was responsible, though, the Hulk would be more of a detriment than an asset.  But once they did find who had taken AON…well, Bruce was thinking he might be happy to let the other guy out.

 

“No, no additional contact has been made,” Coulson said, eyes straying to the screen where AON was ranting at the camera.  “We don’t know what they want from him or us.”

 

“We don’t even know who ‘they’ are,” Natasha spoke up for the first time.  “There is no way Jacobs has the courage to make war with SHIELD unless he’s got some serious backing.  Someone else has to be helping him.  Someone with power.  Someone who has something, a vendetta, against SHIELD.”

 

“That’s a long list, Tasha,” Clint muttered and Steve nodded in agreement.  “How are we supposed to find the one person or organization gunning for us this time?”

 

“We don’t have to,” a voice snapped across the room and everyone turned to watch Fury storm in.  “We have another incoming video.  This time it seems to be a pre-recorded message.”  Fury motioned at the tech behind him and the team turned towards the screen once again.

 

The video of AON went black and was replaced by another video.  The second the screen flashed to life, Bruce felt all the blood drain from his face and his hands started shaking; whether it was from rage or fear, he didn’t know.

 

“Ross,” Bruce whispered in horror and watched as the man, who had already tried- and mostly succeeded at- destroying his life, once again use an innocent person he cared for against him.


	13. Not Gonna Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AON and Jacobs have a little chat (and AON remembers how much of an idiot Jacobs really is).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicknames used in this chapter.
> 
> CY (Calm Yourself) = Bruce  
> Double-0 = Clint  
> Suit = Coulson  
> FOL (Fond of Leather) = Fury

“Hello, Dr. Banner,” Ross started.  He leaned in towards the camera and a small, cold smirk came to his face, “Bruce, as you already know, I have taken something of yours that you want back.  In order to get it back,” he continued, not even caring that the ‘it he was talking about was another human being.  “You will return something of mine that _you_ took.”

 

“See, you, Bruce, are my property.  Your body…it’s the result of a science project, a _military-funded_ project.  My superiors were none too pleased when you ran away and the task of retrieving you was assigned to me.  Now, as you well know, I take my orders, both those given to me and those I give to others, very seriously.”

 

Ross got up from the chair he had been sitting in and started pacing in front of the camera. “I tried capturing you but you managed to sneak your way out of every trap I have set like the rat you are; I tried playing at the politics, but it seems SHIELD has quite a bit more sway with the higher-ups than I realized,” Ross scowled, his eyes flashing in anger for a moment.

 

“So now, with no other options before me, I was forced to resort to this forced exchange,” the General sighed.  “I really wish it hadn’t come to this, but you left me no other choice, Banner.”

 

Ross got up from his chair and walked over to a wall with a large map on it.  “Now, here is what’s going to happen.  You will go to Fort Drum and turn yourself in to General Goethe.  You will have signed papers giving the U.S. military the right to all your research, which includes your body.”

 

Ross pointed to an area in New York on the map.  “This is Fort Drum.”  He dragged his finger to the location of the SHIELD headquarters.  “And here is your current location.”

 

There was a flurry of activity as Fury started yelling questions about how the fuck General Ross had gotten clearance for that sort of information.  SHIELD agents and techs were running around, but everyone on the team was still avidly watching the screen where Ross was still speaking.

 

“It’s eighty point five miles.  In an hours time, one of my men, David, will be showing up at SHIELD headquarters to drop off the papers you will be signing.  Once he calls to inform me you have received the papers, you’ll have two hours to get to Fort Drum and turn yourself in to General Goethe. Once I have confirmation that you are in General Goethe’s custody, I will give you back what I took.”

 

Ross moved back over to his chair and sat down with a satisfied smile on his face.  “Well, I believe that’s all.  I’ll be seeing you soon, Banner.”

 

The screen froze on a close up of Ross’s arrogant smirk.

 

 

 

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Steve immediately moved to take the seat beside Bruce, clasping a steadying hand over the scientist’s shaking shoulder.  “Bruce,” the Captain said gently, “Bruce, you need to calm down.”

 

“He has AON,” Bruce gasped, eyes never leaving the frozen screen showing Ross’s smug, arrogant face.  Steve had always known there was a mean streak in the General, but he never thought the man would resort to this type of tactic.  Involving civilians, and a minor at that, was inexcusable.

 

“I know,” Steve squeezed Bruce’s neck, trying to get the tension there to ease a little.  “I know he does, but we’ll get him back.  I swear to you Bruce, we won’t let anything happen to AON.  But I need you to calm down, okay?”

 

Bruce nodded jerkily.  He inhaled deeply through his nose and then exhaled slowly through his mouth.  Steve watched Bruce work on his breathing for a few seconds and then turned towards Fury. 

 

“How are we going to handle this, Director?”

 

Fury scowled at the screen showing Ross and then glanced to another screen still broadcasting video feed from AON’s cell.  “We use the three hours we have to find out where they’re keeping Anthony.”

 

“And if we cannot manage that task?” Thor asked in concern.

 

When the Director remained silent, Steve narrowed his eyes, not liking what his silence implied.  “We can’t just abandon AON.”

 

Fury met Steve’s eyes evenly, mouth set in a grim line.  “I don’t want to, but if it comes down to it, we must.  Ross can’t get a hold of Dr. Banner.”

 

“No,” Bruce leapt to his feet, knocking Steve’s hand away.  His chest heaved in anger as he struggled to control his breathing.  “I will not let AON remain in the hands of that man.  Ross wants me.  AON shouldn’t even be involved in this.”

 

“I doubt Ross will do anything to a minor,” Fury said in a placating manner, but no one in the room looked too reassured.  Steve felt sick to his stomach, not quite believing that the Director had even suggested they abandon AON.

 

“A minor that doesn’t exist in any government database?”  Clint asked, playing devil’s advocate.

 

“He’s right, sir.  You haven’t reported AON’s real identity to anyone outside of SHIELD, Stane, and Mr. Jarvis.  No one would believe Ross has kidnapped a minor, let alone the fact that the minor is the presumed-to-be-dead Anthony Stark,” Coulson spoke up from the side of the room.

 

“And,” Natasha added, “We have no evidence that Ross manufactured AON’s kidnapping.  Ross never admits to taking AON in the video, he just says that he took ‘something.’  We won’t be able to get help from the army in dealing with Ross because Ross never actually confesses.  We won’t be able to prove his involvement.”

 

Steve swallowed thickly, not liking what his teammates were implying.  They made it sound as if Ross could do whatever he wanted with AON _and_ he’d get away with it.  

 

Bruce seemed to come to the same conclusion because he turned to the Director with a glare.  “If we can’t find AON within the time limit, then I _will_ be turning myself over.”

 

“I can’t allow that to happen, Dr. Banner,” Fury said solemnly.

 

Bruce stepped right up to the Director, his eyes flashing green for a second.  “I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

 

 

 

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AON stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to figure out what was going on.  No one had come to speak with him and he didn’t know why he had been taken. 

 

He assumed it had something to do with SHIELD but he had no idea why an enemy of SHIELD would take _him_ of all people.  He wasn’t anybody important.  Besides, he’d gotten the impression that FOL was keeping his detainment by SHIELD a little hush-hush. 

 

The teenager was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the arrival of one of his captors.  AON sat up when he registered the soft footsteps stopping in front of his cell.  He got up from the thin cot and warily approached the cell door, letting out a laugh when he recognized the person on the other side of his cage.

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” the teenager chuckled, leaning against the sidewall in order to appear calm.  But, in truth, his heart was pounding wildly in his chest.  “Wow, I’ve heard of being a sore loser, but you are just taking it to a whole other level.”

 

“You didn’t beat me,” Jacobs sneered at him through the metal bars.  “You cheated somehow.”

 

AON snorted a laugh and shook his head, not quite believing the guy was acting like a fucking three year old.  The teenager was also a little disheartened that someone as unoriginal as Jacobs had managed to kidnap him.  Being taken by Suit had been unpleasant, sure, but at least AON wasn’t ashamed of being outsmarted by the super-agent.  Admitting that Jacobs had gotten the drop on him was just _embarrassing_.

 

“If that’s what you want to believe in order to sleep at night, then by all means, go ahead,” AON waved a hand at the man in a dismissive manner. 

 

“Listen here, you little brat,” Jacobs spit angrily, his face flushed red.  “The only order I was given was to keep you alive.  But Ross made no mention of keeping you unharmed, so I’d watch your mouth if I was you.”

 

“Figures,” AON smirked, completely ignoring the threat to bodily injury.

 

“What?” Jacobs growled.

 

“Nothing,” the teenager shrugged.  “I just knew you weren’t the one calling the shots.  So, tell me, who’s this Ross guy and why did he order you to kidnap me?”

 

“It was my idea, actually,” Jacobs grinned sharply.  “See, there’d been rumors about the Director looking to replace me with someone else. I was always under appreciated by SHIELD.  I tried showing him that I was the best out there but then you came along and ruined _everything_.  I knew Fury was going to fire me after this whole mess with you was resolved, so I decided I might as well leave and leave with a bang.  Ross just has the resources I need to do just that. What better way to get back at SHIELD than to steal their precious hacker and to get rid of one of the Avengers in one go?”

 

AON frowned, pushing off the wall and approaching Jacobs.  “What do you mean?  What do the Avengers have to do with this?”

 

“Everything,” Jacobs smiled darkly.  “I might have wanted to get rid of you, but that’s really just an add-on.  The real target here is Dr. Banner.  He’s the one Ross wants.  I just offered him a way to get his hands on the dear doctor.”

 

“CY?”  AON shook his head, realizing Jacobs wouldn’t know that was his nickname for Bruce.  “I mean, how does kidnapping me have anything to do with Bruce?”

 

“And everyone thinks you’re so brilliant,” Jacobs rolled his eyes.  The man stepped closer to the cell door and smiled manically.  “You’re the bait.”

 

 

 

 

 

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“Look,” Coulson stepped up beside Bruce and the Director.  “We don’t have time to waste arguing about the worse-case scenario.  Right now we should focus our attention on finding where Ross is keeping AON.”

 

Everyone watched the pair in tense silence, and a collective sigh of relief went through the room when Bruce moved to take his seat once more.

 

“And how are we supposed to find that location?”

 

“We think they’re still in New York,” Hill spoke up.  “The SUV they stole had a tracker in it and we know it was ditched on the edge of Adirondack Park Preserve.”  Hill typed something on her tablet and the screen split to show AON’s camera feed as well as a map of the Adirondack Mountains.  “We have a team of techs working to pull satellite feed at the time they ditched the SUV to see if we can get a lock on what direction they headed after that.”

 

Clint shook his head as he studied the map.  “That’s going to take too long.  The coverage they get from the forest is going to make it too difficult to track any movement by satellite.  We need people on site to track them,” the marksman said, looking towards Director Fury as he spoke.

 

“You and Romanoff can fly out and try to track them,” Fury nodded and the two agents immediately sprang to their feet.

 

“No,” Steve rose to his feet, followed by Bruce and Thor.  “We all go.”

 

“Captain,” Fury began to protest and Steve cut him off with a shake of his head.

 

“With all due respect, sir, we have no idea what to expect out there and I won’t send two from my team without backup.”  Fury recognized that stubborn Captain America tone of voice and knew he’d be unable to convince Steve to stay behind.

 

“Aye,” Thor nodded as he stepped up beside the Captain.  “And you do me a great dishonor in not including myself in the tracking party.  I have been going on hunting expeditions since before any in this room were born.”

 

Fury paused at that, often forgetting just how different Thor was from his SHIELD agents.  He looked expectantly at Dr. Banner, sure that the scientist would offer a protest to being left behind as well.

 

“You already know my position,” Bruce shrugged.  “I’m going whether you give me permission or not.”

 

Massaging the bridge of his nose in frustration, the Director let out a sigh.  “Fine,” he acquiesced.  “But I want regular updates.”  The team exited the room quickly, determined looks on all their faces.  “And what are you still doing here?” Fury asked as he looked towards Coulson.  “I seem to remember assigning AON’s care to you.  Go retrieve your charge, Agent.”

 

With a brisk nod, Coulson left the room to follow after the Avengers.

 

 

 

 

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_Bait?  That doesn’t even make sense._

 

There was no way he was important enough to SHIELD to risk CY’s capture.  And besides, he’d only known CY for a little less than a month.  It didn’t matter that he looked up to the man and kinda, sorta thought they might be friends…CY had no reason to endanger himself just to save AON.  Why would he?  AON wasn’t anybody special.

 

“You’re insane if you think this is going to work.”

 

“Oh, it’ll work, alright,” Jacobs smirked. 

 

“You think you’re just going to get away with this?  There is no way SHIELD is going to just let you walk away after this.”  AON didn’t think FOL particularly cared about what happened to him, but it was true the Director was never going to be okay with one of his own betraying SHIELD like this.

 

“That’s why I waited until I had Ross’s backing.  I have army protection now,” Jacobs said confidently.

 

“Oh my gosh, you are an idiot.  You worked for SHIELD for how long?  You don’t think they are capable of killing you without leaving any evidence behind?” AON attempted reasoning with the man, knowing he wouldn’t actually be able to talk his way out of this but having to at least _try._

 

“You seem to forget that I was head of the cyber division.  I know how to make myself disappear.  They won’t be able to track me.  By the time this whole incident is resolved, I’ll be thousands of miles away, enjoying my hard-earned retirement.”

 

AON tried not to laugh.  Not only was it funny that Jacobs thought himself capable of making himself a ghost, but it was also laughable that Jacobs though he had ‘earned’ anything.  The man was a complete joke.

 

“You are so delusional,” AON muttered under his breath.  “So, what happens to me?”  He asked at a normal volume.

 

“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care,” Jacobs said with a shrug.  “My partners and I are leaving in a couple of minutes to finalize some details.  Ross knows you’re here, so it’s up to him whether he’ll give you back to SHIELD or not.”

 

Jacobs began to retreat down the hallway.  “Next time, kid,” he called back, “You might want to think a little more carefully about who you mess around with.”

 

_Yeah, next time I won’t hack the super secret government agency._

 

AON turned back towards the cot and sat down with a heavy _thump_.  He waited in silence, his thoughts racing with possibilities.  Ten minutes after Jacobs left, the lights went out in the entire building.  AON glanced up to the corner ceiling and saw that the red light on the camera was off too.  The teenager waited a few more minutes, listening intently for any sound, but when he heard nothing, he felt it safe to assume the building was empty.

 

Getting to his feet, AON heaved the bed frame onto its side and felt at the underside.  He grinned to himself when his fingers traced over the coiled springs.  If Jacobs and this Ross guy thought he was just going to sit in the dark and wait for someone to come get him, whether it be friend or foe, then they were complete idiots.

 

 _Want to use me as bait?  Yeah, so not gonna happen_ , AON thought as his fingers twisted the screws loose and he worked to disassemble the bed frame.  _I’m busting this joint._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, to address a little concern...I've gotten quite a few comments regarding Stane and how he is evil and I should not make AON go with him because he can't be trusted. But here's my take on the whole thing:
> 
> In canon, Stane kinda went insane because of a power-trip. He had control of SI while Tony was still a minor, but power was always going to go back to Tony when he was old enough. Tony also was always involved with SI, and was always contributing to new research and product development so SI was always the head of the weapons/technology field.
> 
> In this AU, control of SI was given to Stane in Howard's will. AON does not present a threat to Stane because he has no legal claim on SI. Also, as I hinted in a previous chpt, without a Stark working at SI, the company sort of fell apart. It isn't the company to beat in weapon's development anymore because no Stark is there to come up with innovative products. Stane is still self-serving, yes, but he isn't going to actively work against AON because he knows he actually needs him. He's going to be supportive of AON because he needs AON's brilliance and he needs the backing of the Stark name once more. Now, I'm not saying that Stane is suddenly this awesome guy, but given that AON **at this point in time** isn't a threat to his position, Stane isn't going to do anything to hurt AON.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope that clears up some things and I hope my logic about this makes sense. Thanks for reading and I'll see ya guys in the new year!!


	14. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AON delivers one of the best gifts Fury has ever received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicknames used in this chpt:
> 
> Double-0 for Clint  
> CY (Calm Yourself) for Bruce

* * *

 

“What?!” Fury just barely stopped from cringing at Darcy’s enraged shriek.  “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?!  I would have gone with them and- ”

 

“And done what, Ms. Lewis?” Fury asked blandly.

 

“I don’t know,” Darcy huffed.  “But it would have certainly involved my taser!”

 

Dr. Foster, always the voice of reason in their dynamic duo, put a hand on Darcy’s arm to quiet the raging girl.   “Darcy, calm down.”  She waited until her young assistant collapsed back into her seat and then looked to the Director.  “We want to be in the communication room.”

 

Fury nodded his head, fully aware that the two women would want to be kept up-to-date on the progress of the mission.  He motioned for Hill to show them the way and then heaved a sigh when he was alone.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Fury prepared himself for the confrontation that was sure to arise when he told Stane and Jarvis the news about Anthony being kidnapped.

 

 

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It took a little longer than he expected to break out of the cell, but he did eventually get the bedspring bent into the correct shape in order to jimmy the lock open.  He’d have to rethink the Double-0 nickname for Barton, because clearly AON was the real James Bond.

 

AON had actually lucked out that the building had old-fashioned security features.  While usually AON would have been able to break out of any electrical security system by rewiring things, he knew that doing so in the darkness would have been a challenge.

 

The teenager tiptoed down the hallway, listening to the sounds of the building.  He was pretty confident that no one had returned but it was better to be safe than sorry, right?  When he got to the end of the hallway, he put his ear up to the door and waited.  After a minute of nothing but silence, the teenager slowly opened the door. 

 

His eyes widened when he saw a large wall of computers adorning the vacant room.  Grinning madly, AON flipped the light switch and then skipped over to the computer chair.  He threw himself into the chair, his eyes darting around wildly as he took in this gift from the gods.

 

“Alright,” AON clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully.  “Let’s see what those idiots left for me to work with.”

 

 

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Jacobs was humming to himself as he tapped away at the tablet in his hands.  His happy mood faltered slightly when a ring tone blasted angrily through the silence of the jeep.  He knew it was probably General Ross, but to be honest, Jacobs didn’t care to speak with the man.  He had done his part in acquiring the boy; now it was time to reap the rewards.

 

“Sir,” one of the soldiers answered the call and Jacobs went back to his tablet. 

 

“Yes, sir.”  He was searching through listings, trying to decide if he wanted to go with a loft in London or a house in France. 

 

“No, sir.  We’re on our way to Fort Drum, sir.”  There were so many choices.  After today Jacobs would be set for life.  “Bur sir…” 

 

Jacobs looked up when he heard the nervous tone the private answered in. 

 

“Ye…Yes, sir.  I understand, sir.”  The soldier disconnected the call and then turned to glare at Jacobs in the backseat.  “You lied about General Ross’s orders!  We weren’t supposed to leave the boy there.”

 

“But if we hadn’t left then we would have run the risk of getting caught.  We had to leave in case SHIELD somehow found out our location,” Jacobs swallowed nervously.  As confident as he had acted in front of that annoying child earlier, Jacobs was fully aware that SHIELD was probably already on their trail.

 

“It doesn’t matter!” The soldier growled as his partner pulled off the dirt road and then turned the jeep around.  “It wasn’t your call to make.”

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There had been many a time that Clint wished the jet, or car, or chopper, or snowmobile he was using could go just a little bit faster, wished that he could push the throttle a little bit more.  Missions were often time sensitive.  Whether it be the need to get there faster or the need to escape faster…both instances called for more speed.  And this moment, as they raced towards AON’s last known site, was the most pressed for time Clint had ever felt. 

 

The archer landed the helicopter a little more roughly than he usually did, hastiness making his piloting-skills sloppy.  He heard a few grunts from his teammates on impact, but no one called him on it and they all jumped out of the helicopter rather quickly. 

 

The rotor was just coming to a stop when Thor landed in the clearing with a loud _thump_.  “I have found their trail but the tree coverage is too thick for me to follow in the air.  We will have to continue on foot,” the god told them.

 

“Or by vehicle,” Coulson nodded towards the abandoned SHIELD jeep just off to the side. 

 

Clint moved closer to the jeep and let out a curse.  “They slashed the tires,” he bit out, kicking the sagging wheel in frustration.

 

“Then we go on foot,” Steve announced, nodding for the blonde god to lead the way.  Everyone fell into line, a tense silence falling over the group as they trailed after Thor.

 

After fifteen minutes of hiking down the small dirt road, a voice crackled to life over the comms.  Everyone froze as Director Fury addressed the group.

 

“Ross’s soldier arrived five minutes ago.  You’ve got two hours before the deadline.”

 

With that announcement the group took off at a brisker pace, grim but determined looks on all their faces.

 

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If General Ross’s obviously evil plan to capture CY hadn’t been enough of a tip off as to how big of a douche the guy was, then what AON was finding out about him now would have certainly done the job. 

 

It took AON ten minutes to scrounge up ten or so missions with suspicious objectives and questionable results all involving General Ross in some fashion.  It took him another fifteen minutes to uncover multiple army-funded but not army-approved research projects trying to replicate the super-soldier serum.  General Ross was the head honcho for all of them.    

 

AON really had to wonder if the army was so incompetent as to allow this man to go unchecked for so long.  Or maybe they knew about General Ross’s actions and chose to turn a blind eye.  Either way, it was not inspiring much confidence in the United States’ national security. 

 

 

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To say that Stane had not taken well to the information Fury delivered would be quite the understatement.  The second Fury had told them Anthony was no longer in the SHIELD base, the man had started barking out questions and demanding answers.

 

“As soon as you find the boy, I am taking him and we are leaving!” Stane snapped, his face flushed an angry red. “I cannot believe the incompetence of this organization.  I should sue SHIELD for endangering…”

 

Fury narrowed his eyes at Stane, regretting his decision to contact the man.  Legally, it had been the correct move to make, but Fury wondered if maybe he should have skirted the law a little as SHIELD was prone to doing.

 

It was obvious Stane didn’t really care about Anthony so much as he cared about the name Stark.  The SI CEO would try to squeeze as much profit out of Anthony’s return as he could.  Fury had offered Anthony up on a silver platter, and Stane was clearly already possessive of his newly acquired golden goose.

 

Ignoring the livid ranting, Fury turned his gaze away from Stane and onto Jarvis.  The former servant was pale, his hands clutched together as he tried to compose himself. 

 

Fury might not be able to prevent Stane from taking Anthony, but he could at least make sure Jarvis was allowed to keep in touch with the boy.  It was blatantly obvious that the man cared for Anthony.  Even Barton, who had watched Fury’s interview with Jarvis, had begrudgingly admitted that Jarvis had done what he thought was best for AON at the time.  Fury would have an easier time dealing with the team when it came time for Anthony to leave if they knew Jarvis would be there to look after the boy in their stead.

 

“You will get him back, won’t you?”

 

Nodding sharply, Fury clapped a hand over Jarvis’s shoulder.  “I have the utmost faith in my team.  They’ll bring him back.”

 

“They better,” Stane growled and Fury had to clench his hand at his side in order to refrain from punching the man.  

 

 

 

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AON had just finished sending off the remaining files when an alert went off on the computer.  The teenager frowned as he typed away, drawing up security feeds from a mile down the road.

 

“Shit!”  AON scrambled in his seat when he recognized Jacobs’s face peering out from the rear window.  His fingers raced to shut down all the programs he had up and running and then sent the computers back to sleep. 

 

Hopping up from the chair, AON went to flip the light switch back off and then jogged back down the dark hallway towards his cell.  When AON pulled the cell door closed behind him, the _snick_ of the lock sounded immeasurably loud.  The teenager had to take a moment to calm his nerves before forcing himself into action.

 

AON kicked the dismantled bed frame to the corner of the cell and then pulled the thin mattress to the other side of the small cell.  He threw himself down onto the mattress and tried to assume a casual position.  He had just managed to get his breathing back under control when he heard the hallway door open and the lights flickered back on.

 

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, AON looked toward the cell door and smirked when he saw Jacobs and another man standing there.  “Aw, did you miss little ol’ me?”

 

Jacobs rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort but the other guy cut him off.  “What did you do to the bed?” He snapped, eyeing the teenager suspiciously.

 

AON glanced towards the destroyed bed frame and shrugged dramatically.  “Decided to get rid some of my frustration.  I’m sure you can understand that I’m not in the happiest moods after being kidnapped, can’t you?”

 

The guy ignored his question and stomped off.  “Come on, Jacobs.  The General will be calling soon with further instructions.”

 

Jacobs sent one more glare AON’s way and the teenager just gave him a jaunty little wave in return.  He watched the SHIELD-betrayer leave before heaving out a sigh and flopping onto his back. 

 

AON folded his arms under his head and stared at the ceiling.  There wasn’t much else he could do except wait to see how the rest of the day would play out.  He was strangely calm now…maybe he had more trust in SHIELD – more specifically the Avengers – than he’d previously realized.

 

 

 

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Fury was in the communications room supervising the rescue mission.  There wasn’t much being said over the comms, just terse updates from Coulson and Romanoff every five minutes.  The soldier with Ross’s contract had shown up half an hour ago and now it was a race against time to find AON.

 

“Sir!”  Hill burst into the conference room, a few pieces of her hair falling across her face as she screeched to a halt.  “AON made contact.” 

 

The Director lurched to his feet and strode over to his second in command.  He quickly scanned the tablet Hill handed off to him and blinked in shock at what he saw.  “And how do we know it’s him?”

 

“He used some of the same tactics to hack the system that allowed us to catch him before.  Except this time he wasn’t viewing files, he was depositing some into our system.”

 

“Can we use this to track his location?” 

 

Hill shook her head, looking more frustrated than Fury had seen her since she supervised the Budapest mission. “Unfortunately, no.  The connection was cut and whatever system he was using went offline almost immediately after he sent those.”

 

“Alright,” Fury flicked through more of the files, not quite believing the gift AON had managed to deliver to SHIELD.  “I’m going to go make some phone calls and I want you to assemble a team to be ready to go as soon as I give word.”

 

Hill nodded and quickly strode out of the room to carry out the Director’s order. Fury walked over to one of the communication specialists and ordered him to get General Lyon on the line. 

 

“What’s going on, Director?” Dr. Foster asked as she came up to his side.  The Director had forgotten that she and Ms. Lewis were present in the room. 

 

“Did you find AON?”  Darcy asked, wide-eyed with hope.

 

“No, but he did manage to make this rescue mission significantly easier.”

 

“How so?” Dr. Foster asked, peering curiously at the tablet still in Fury’s hand.

 

A sharp grin spread across Fury’s face that reminded the two women just how cutthroat the Director could be.  “We now have more than enough evidence to arrest General Ross for war crimes, bribery, unlawful detainment, misappropriated funds, and numerous other charges.”

 

Before they could respond to that information, Comm Specialist Huxely called for the Director’s attention.  “I have General Lyon on the line, sir.”

 

Fury turned towards the screen and nodded in greeting to General Lyon.  Within the hour, General Ross would no longer be a threat to SHIELD or Dr. Banner.  And all of this was made possible because of one brilliant, adolescent, trouble-making hacker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleh, sorry if the scenes seem a little short or jumpy, but it's hard - and exhausting - trying to write in so many characters.


	15. Reinforcements In Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worried!Bruce + Gunshot + AON = Pissed!Hulk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CY (Calm Yourself): Bruce  
> Double-0: Clint

* * *

They’d been following the trail left behind for about forty minutes by that point and if they couldn’t manage to find AON within the next twenty, then Bruce already said he would be leaving for Fort Drum.  Steve hadn’t even bothered trying to talk Bruce out of it, because he knew there would be no point. 

 

In all honesty, Steve wasn’t entirely sure he would have followed the Director’s orders to stop Bruce anyways.  Bruce and AON were both civilians, but AON was still a child in Steve’s mind, and this wasn’t his war to be fighting.

 

Steve had been playing politics with General Ross for close to a year now and he was tired of the man’s sadistic games.  General Ross was a looming monster, casting a dark shadow over the entirety of Bruce’s life.  Dr. Banner, for all that he housed the Hulk, always seemed so breakable to Steve.  But over the past few weeks Bruce had been more open and carefree than Steve had ever seem the man.  And the change was entirely due to his time spent with AON.

 

It wasn’t fair that AON had become involved in General Ross’s games.  But then again, General Ross wasn’t known for being playing fair.

 

“Captain,” the Director’s voice came in over the comm.  The team came to a halt; everyone’s faces were tense as they awaited news from SHIELD home base.

 

“Yes, Director?”

 

“It would seem that General Ross is no longer a threat,” Fury informed them, a hint of smugness creeping into his usually harsh voice.

 

“What?” Bruce asked, his hand was pressed to the ear housing the comm. as if he wasn’t sure it was working correctly.

 

“You heard me, Doctor.  General Ross is no longer a threat; he has been taken into custody by General Lyon.”

 

“But…why?”

 

“Your friend, Anthony, wherever he is, managed to send us some incriminating files pertaining to most of the illegal actions General Ross has been involved in for the past decade.  It was enough information to detain General Ross immediately.”

 

“Un-fucking-believable,” Clint muttered, a proud grin plastered across his face as the Director informed them of AON’s help.  Steve was astounded himself.  He had no idea how the kid had managed to get the information, but he was thankful to the teenager all the same.

 

“Now,” Fury continued, “General Ross might not be calling the shots anymore, but his men and Jacobs are still holding Anthony captive.”  The Director paused, his voice hard-edged and commanding when he gave them a final order.  “Bring him back safe.”

 

Steve looked around to his teammates, identical looks of determination on all their faces.  “We will,” he promised, receiving agreeing nods from each member of his team.

 

 

 

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Bruce couldn’t even parse the numerous emotions coursing through him. 

 

Anger and fear had been constants in his life for so long now.  There was always the fear that he’d lose control and the Other Guy would hurt someone he cared for.  But today was proving that just being _Dr. Bruce Banner_ was enough to hurt those he most wanted to keep safe.  If something happened to AON, it would be entirely _his_ fault. 

 

There was also a sense of relief.  Ever since Director Fury had informed them of General Ross’s arrest, Bruce had felt a weight lift off his shoulder.  Ross had been a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in his life for so long that Bruce wasn’t even sure he remembered what it felt like to be a free man, not having to worry about someone chasing after him. 

 

Bruce was thankful – and proud, because seriously, how had the teenager even managed that? – to AON for eliminating the threat that was General Ross.

 

And that brought about a round of guilt.  AON had helped Bruce so much, and yet, all Bruce had done was be responsible for his kidnapping.  Would AON even be willing to talk to Bruce after this whole thing was over with?  Would Bruce even be able to say thank you for all that AON had done?

 

So yes, there was a whirlwind of emotions thrumming through Bruce.  But he forced all those emotions away to be dealt with later, when he could afford to be emotional.  Right now he – and the others – had to focus on getting AON back.

 

Coulson held a hand up, signaling for the group to stop.  Just as Bruce was about to ask why they were stopping, Clint dropped onto the road in front of them.  Steve had sent the archer to scout ahead about thirty minutes ago.

 

“Tire treads lead to a small outpost ‘bout a half mile west of here,” Clint reported in.

 

“Did you see AON?” Bruce asked, desperate to know the teenager was still safe. 

 

Clint’s lips thinned into a grim line and he shook his head.  “No.  I couldn’t get too close because there were cameras scanning the area.  There weren’t any windows either, so I couldn’t see inside.  But I did spot recent footprints outside the building.  It has to be them.” 

 

“If I may make a suggestion, Captain?” Coulson looked towards Steve and continued once he received a nod.  “I think it would be best if Black Widow, Hawkeye, and I continued on alone.”

 

“Surely it would be best to stay together,” Thor said with a frown.

 

“No,” Steve shook his head.  “Agent Coulson is right.  They’re the best suited for stealth and subtlety.  They have a better chance of getting the drop on whoever is inside and getting AON out safely.”

 

Bruce bit his lip.  He didn’t want to be left behind; he wanted to be there to see AON safe with his own two eyes.  But he knew Steve were right.  The three SHIELD agents were trained to handle these types of situations – missions that handled a delicate touch – and letting the Other Guy out probably would not be for the best. 

 

“Dr. Banner?”  Steve walked forward and placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.  “I know you wanted to…”

 

“No,” Bruce shook his head.  “I understand.  Agent Coulson’s suggestion is the right plan of action.”  Steve squeezed his shoulder and then turned to address the rest of his team.

 

“Be careful, be safe.  Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” he commanded.  His gaze settled on Clint.  “And try not to injure them any more than necessary.”

 

“Define necessary,” Clint said with a wicked grin.

 

“Hawkeye,” Steve started to reprimand but Coulson stepped up to wrap a hand around Clint’s neck in a warning grip. 

 

“Don’t worry, Captain.  I’ll make sure to keep him in line,” the senior Agent said blandly as Clint swallowed nervously.  Natasha just shook her head at the both of them, more than used to Clint’s antics and Coulson’s babysitter tendencies. 

 

“Keep us up to date on the comms,” Steve ordered as the three SHIELD agents checked over their weapons.  Bruce was truly astounded by the amount of concealed weapons Natasha managed to keep hidden on her person.  “Thor will be ready to give air support if needed,” the Captain said and Thor nodded his approval.  “Keep in mind the fact that – ”

 

Suddenly, the echo of a gunshot cut off Steve’s orders.  There was a moment of silence, everyone’s heads whipping around to look at the forest, the direction which Clint reported AON to be. 

 

“Fuck,” Clint hissed before darting into the shadowed trees.

 

Bruce had a moment to register the pounding of his heart – adrenaline coursing through him as he realized the implications of the gunshot because _Oh god…AON…_ – before he felt the overwhelming surge of power that washed over him as the transformation began.

 

 

 

 

**XxXxXxXxXx      A     xXxXxXxXxXx      O       xXxXxXxXxXx    N     xXxXxXxXxXxX**

 

 

 

AON didn’t even bother opening his eyes when he heard someone approaching his cell; he was sick of dealing with Jacobs’ utter stupidity.  It wasn’t until the cell door slammed open and a strong hand yanked him upright by his neck that the teenager realized it wasn’t Jacobs paying him a little visit.  His fingers pulled at the hand constricting around his throat but the soldier just tightened his hold. 

 

“What the hell?!” AON rasped out as the man dragged him out of the cell and into the main room.  He was thrown to the ground and he rubbed at his aching neck before looking up.

 

“What did you do?”  Jacobs leveled him with a narrow-eyed look, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in the computer chair.  The two soldiers positioned themselves on either side of Jacobs, standing at attention and awaiting further instruction.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” AON lied, a fake smile stretching across his lips.  “Maybe it was Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber, over there,” he nodded towards the soldiers, “that did…whatever.”

 

Jacobs let out a sigh and _tsked_ at the kneeling teenager.  “It would end better for you if you answered my question.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” AON repeated.

 

“Such a stupidly brave boy,” Jacobs motioned towards the soldiers. 

 

AON swallowed nervously, his eyes darting to the side when Tweedle Dumber moved towards him.  He tried scrambling away but Tweedle Dumber just snagged him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him upwards.  He felt a strong body step up behind him and then his arms were suddenly yanked backwards by Tweedle Dumb.

 

The teenager bit back a yelp as his shoulders protested the restricting hold.  Tweedle Dumber relinquished his grip on AON’s shirt and stepped back.  The teenager opened his mouth to say something but was resolutely silenced by a solid smack across the face.

 

AON’s head snapped to the side, a hiss escaping his lips.  He bit down ruthlessly on his lip, fighting back tears of pain.  AON’s chest heaved as panic started to well up inside him, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as he tried to get his heart rate back under control.  He licked his lips and tasted blood. 

 

AON was fully aware of how unprepared he was to handle this type of situation; playground bullies were completely different from trained soldiers.

 

“Now,” Jacobs leaned forward in his chair and smiled at him, the sick fucker.  “I’ll ask you again – What did you do on the computers?  I know you were on them while we were gone; I just need to know what you did so I can counteract it.”

 

The teenager hesitated to answer, unsure whether or not SHIELD would have already seen the files he’d deposited in their system.  If they hadn’t, then Jacobs would be able to retrieve and delete them before SHIELD even saw them.  And if SHIELD _had_ seen the files…then would they even need AON anymore? 

 

AON didn’t want to betray SHIELD, or CY, but if it came down to staying alive or keeping his mouth shut…then surely they’d understand why it was necessary for him to speak up.  Right? 

 

Either way, whether AON answered Jacobs’ question or not…he could at least stall for time.  He could give SHIELD a chance to discover the files.  And he knew CY and Double-0 would be coming to get him, no matter what SHIELD’s orders were.  AON just had to give them time.

 

Additional pressure on his shoulders made the teenager snap back to the situation at hand.  “Answer the question, boy,” Tweedle Dumb growled from behind him.

 

AON narrowed his eyes in a glare and pursed his lips into a thin line.  He had a fleeting thought that his next action had the potential of being a horribly stupid move before he snapped his head backwards and broke Tweedle Dumb’s nose.

 

There was a sick crunch and a pain-filled yell as Tweedle Dumb dropped his hold on AON.  The teenager made a mad dash for the exit.  He burst out into the bright sunlight, blinking his eyes rapidly.  Without pause, the teenager ran towards the tree line.

 

He could hear feet pounding after him and Jacobs’ angry yelling from further away.  AON was just about to dive into the cover of the trees when he felt a flash of searing pain tear through his arm and heard the distinct _bang_ of a gun being fired.

 

There was a brief moment of silence and then a thunderous roar sounded through the area, shaking the entire forest.

 

AON frowned at the dark forest ahead of him.  He could hear the crashing and snapping of trees and he slowly started backing up towards the clearing he had just left. 

 

Tweedle Dumber had just caught up to him and he found himself being dragged back into the clearing.   Just as Jacobs and Tweedle Dumb – still bleeding profusely – stepped up beside them, something big and loud and _angry_ soared through the air and landed in the clearing with a huge _thud_.

 

 _Holy fuck…_ AON stared at the newcomer.  It took him a moment to work through the shock and then a small smile crept over his face.  _Looks like reinforcements just showed up._


	16. Goodbye...But Just For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He might be leaving SHIELD, but he's not leaving his family.

Tension was thick in the air.  Everyone in the clearing was struck into immobility.

 

As his moniker would suggest, Tweedle Dumber was a complete idiot and the first to break the tense standoff by taking aim at the Hulk with his gun.

 

“Stay back!” Tweedle Dumber yelled, voice trembling with fear.  The Hulk – and wow, AON had seriously underestimated how _big_ the guy would be! – let out a deep roar.  Tweedle Dumber took the shot and gulped nervously when the bullet simply bounced off of the Hulk’s heavily muscled chest.

 

The Hulk took a menacing step forward and, in response, Tweedle Dumber pulled AON in front of him as a shield.  The soldier then decided to aim the gun at the teenager instead.

 

The Hulk froze, his large eyes narrowing at the sight.  His big green hands clenched into fists at his side and he growled menacingly.

 

“Let go,” the Hulk snarled.

 

“No,” Tweedle Dumber yelled back, his voice cracking embarrassingly as he pulled AON a step further backwards.  “You stay away or I’ll shoot him!”

 

“You idiot!”  Jacobs hissed from beside them.  “You can’t reason with the monster!”

 

“You better hope that he can, or else you three are dead,” AON drawled out, trying to maintain his calm facade. 

 

His injured arm felt like it was on fire, but he refused to let the pain distract him.  Reinforcement may have arrived, but he wasn’t out of danger yet.  As happy as AON was to see the big guy, he couldn’t help but feel like one of the SHIELD agents would have been more _appropriate_ back up.  The Hulk was all about brute force, not finesse.

 

“Stay back!” Tweedle Dumber barked and the tension in the air ratcheted up another notch.  AON took a shaky breath when he felt the nozzle of the gun press roughly against his temple.

 

Surprisingly enough, the Hulk obeyed the order and raised his hands in what was supposed to be, AON guessed, a placating manner.  The big green guy shuffled a little to the right and Tweedle Dumber subconsciously moved to the left, Tweedle Dumb and Jacobs following suit.

 

The Hulk stalked to the side, seemingly frustrated with his lack of power in the situation.  Tweedle Dumber mirrored his movements, never letting the Hulk get any closer.

 

“We need to get out of here!” Jacobs said nervously.  He made sure to keep Tweedle Dumber and AON in between himself and the Hulk.  “The rest of the Avengers will be here soon.”

 

“Shut up!” Tweedle Dumber hissed, continuing to circle the Hulk.  “I’ll handle this.”

 

AON snorted a laugh and then yelped when Tweedle Dumber tightened his grip around AON’s injured arm.  The Hulk growled but maintained the same distance.

 

“Now, you just stay away,” Tweedle Dumber ordered, his voice a little more calm now that he realized the Hulk wasn’t going to charge them while AON was in danger.  “We’re going to leave and take the kid with us.  Once we know we’re safe, we’ll let him go.  Alright?”

 

“No,” the Hulk grunted, stalking to the side.

 

“No?!” Tweedle Dumber asked with a hysterical edge to his voice.  “What do you mean no?!”

 

“No,” the Hulk took one more step, positioning himself in front of the jeep – the captors’ quickest escape route.  “You can’t leave.” 

 

“Shit,” Jacobs cursed, realizing they had been outmaneuvered.  AON tried not to laugh.  Who knew the Hulk could be so good at strategy?

 

“Move away from the vehicle,” Tweedle Dumber yelled, trying to regain some control over the situation. 

 

In response, the Hulk turned towards the jeep and lifted one giant fist.  He smashed his fist into the front of the vehicle and the frame crumpled under the blow.  One hit to the side and the jeep toppled over.  Once he was done with his demolition, the Hulk turned back to face them with a satisfied grin on his face. 

 

“You can’t leave,” the Hulk repeated. 

 

While AON fully supported scaring the shit out of his idiotic captors, he also knew that riling them up while a gun was pointed straight at his head might not be the best solution.  He really hoped that there was more to the rescue plan than destroying the get-away car.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tweedle Dumber hissed, his nerves completely shaken.  “What do we do now?” He turned towards the other two idiots and AON felt the gun drop slightly in the air.  Before AON could even heave a breath of relief, a sickening crunch and then two gunshots blasted through the air.

 

AON jumped in shock, swerving around to see what had happened.  All three of his captors were on the ground, sporting various injuries.  Tweedle Dumb had a gunshot to the knee.  Jacobs had a gunshot to the arm.  Tweedle Dumber had an arrow sticking out of the shoulder of his firing arm; the gun lay innocently on the ground at AON’s feet.

 

“Holy shit,” the teenager gasped.  He looked up to see Clint – and yeah, now that he realized they had actually come for _him_ , he let that final barrier keeping them at a distance crumble away – stepping out from the tree line.   The rest of the Avengers and Coulson soon followed.  “Hey guys,” AON smiled shakily, giving a little half-wave with his uninjured arm.  “Thanks for the- woah!” AON yelled as he was suddenly lifted off the ground.

 

He found himself being held gently in the Hulk’s arms.  The big green guy was looking him over carefully, frowning at the blood trickling down the teenager’s arm. 

 

“Hurt,” the Hulk grunted and walked over towards the rest of the team.  “Fix,” he ordered, setting AON back onto his feet in front of Coulson.  The Hulk waited for Coulson to nod in understanding before stalking over to the captured men.  Slightly strained laughter broke out when the Hulk growled at the prisoners and they all started begging for mercy.

 

 

 

**XxXxXxXxXx      A     xXxXxXxXxXx      O       xXxXxXxXxXx    N     xXxXxXxXxXxX**

 

 

The trek back to SHIELD had been…interesting.  Apparently a bullet wound – and it was a flesh wound, really – to the arm meant that AON was incapable of using his legs.  Rogers had insisted that Thor fly AON back to the helicopter while the rest of the team escorted their prisoners there by foot.  The teenager had gone to protest, but a glance at the stern faces of the rest of the Avengers had him snapping his mouth closed. 

 

Coulson had quickly bandaged AON’s arm using his tie and then Thor had picked the teenager up into his arms.  AON was so exhausted that he ended up drifting off in the god’s secure hold.  Next thing he knew, AON was waking up to a de-Hulked Bruce nudging him awake and making him drink a huge cup of water.

 

The chopper ride had been slightly tense, AON too tired to lighten the mood by poking fun at everyone’s solemn faces.  The three prisoners tried bargaining for leniency but Natasha just pulled out her long boot-knife to sharpen and they promptly shut up.  Eventually, the _thub thub thub_ of the copter blades lulled the teenager back to sleep. 

 

By the time they arrived back at SHIELD, AON felt a little more rested, but no less exhausted.  This entire ordeal, despite only spanning over one day, seemed to have taken forever.

 

As soon as the group walked back into SHIELD, a large conglomerate of people assaulted them.  ENO took one look at AON’s bloodied appearance and then promptly marched over to the prisoners.  Out of nowhere she produced her taser and Clint had the thoughtfulness to release his hold on Jacobs just before she tased the man.   Darcy – because he couldn’t possibly call her Enemy Number One after she tased a guy in his defense, could he? – gave a satisfied nod at Jacobs writhing in pain on the ground and then turned back to AON.

 

“AON!” Darcy hug-attacked the teenager, mindful enough of his injury to avoid jarring it.  “I can’t believe they hurt my poor baby,” she said as she stroked his hair.

 

AON settled into Dacry’s arms for a moment, a bone-deep weariness washing over him.  He only pulled back when he felt a nudge to his side.  The teenager turned to see Dummy beside.  The bot held a band-aid in its outstretched claw.  AON shook his head with a laugh and knelt down next to the robot. 

 

“Thanks, Dummy,” he patted the robot affectionately, voice cracking with emotion.  He was glad that everyone averted their eyes to give him a moment to pull himself together once more.

 

“Alright,” Fury took charge of the situation.  “I want those men put into holding cells until I have the time to deal with them.  Ms. Lewis, would you kindly escort Mr. Stark to medical?”  AON blinked in shock at being addressed as Mr. Stark but allowed himself to be led out of the room by Darcy. 

 

The next few hours were a blank gap in the teenager’s memory.  He vaguely remembered Darcy threatening to maim the medical staff if they didn’t fix him up immediately and then a needle had pierced his arm and he promptly passed out.  Once the sedatives faded from his system and AON was roused back into consciousness, he took stock of his surroundings. 

 

Bruce was sprawled out in the chair next to him, one hand linked with Dummy’s claw.  The doctor was dressed in SHIELD standard sweats and a t-shirt and his glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose. Clint and Coulson were standing like sentinels by the door, both fully awake and expressions closed off.

 

“Hey,” AON groaned as he pushed himself up into a seated position.

 

Bruce startled and blinked rapidly to clear his sleep-cloudy eyes.  Dummy whirred to life and began chirping happily up at him.  AON gave his bot a comforting pat and then settled back onto the bed.  He looked down at his arm and saw that it was neatly bandaged.  His fingers automatically went to remove the bandage so he could assess the damage himself, but a steady hand halted his movements.

 

“Don’t,” Bruce ordered in a low voice.  “Dr. Harlow cleaned and stitched up your wound.  She said no lasting muscle damage should result, but you will have one hell of a scar.”

 

AON assessed the somber mood in the room and then shrugged with a grin on his face.  “Scars are sexy, right?”  The teenager tried to joke but his audience wasn’t very receptive.  “God,” he sighed dramatically, “what’s with all the frowny faces?  We beat the bad guys!  Shouldn’t you all be happy?!”

 

“AON…” Bruce shook his head, face set in a deep frown.  “You were kidnapped and hurt because of –” the doctor’s hands curled into tight fists in his lap, “because of me.”

 

“No!” AON shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the doctor.  “You do not get to blame yourself for this!  This whole,” the teenager flailed his arms about, “mess is because of General Crazy, not you!”

 

“General Ross wanted _me_ ,” Bruce said through gritted teeth.  “And he used _you_ to try and get me.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” AON protested and the doctor lurched to his feet as he began to angrily pace the length of the room.  Clint and Coulson remained unmoving, but their eyes watched the doctor carefully.

 

“You should blame me,” Bruce said firmly.

 

“But I don’t,” AON reaffirmed.

 

“He _used_ you to get to me! How do I even begin to apologize for-”

 

“Bruce! I don’t want you to apologize!” AON shouted over Bruce’s self-critical rant and the doctor halted in his tracks.  AON couldn’t tell if he stopped because of the shock of being addressed as Bruce, or if it was because of the desperation in AON’s voice.

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t apologize,” AON repeated, softer this time.  “He used me to get to you? That means you _care_ enough to be concerned about what happens to me.”  The teenager dropped his eyes to his lap, unable to meet Bruce’s stunned gaze.  “I’ve never been _important_ enough to someone that I could be used against them,” AON admitted, voice heartbreakingly vulnerable. 

 

There was a moment of strained silence and then AON heard the shuffling of feet.  A warm hand clasped around his neck and the teenager willingly leaned into the embrace the doctor offered. 

 

“Alright,” the Bruce said softly.  “I’m not sorry.”  

 

 

 

**XxXxXxXxXx      A     xXxXxXxXxXx      O       xXxXxXxXxXx    N     xXxXxXxXxXxX**

 

 

“They’re all going to miss you, you know.”

 

AON stilled, his task of packing up his stuff momentarily forgotten.  He nodded his head and turned to face Coulson.  “I know.”

 

The SHIELD agent entered the room and studied the teenager carefully.  “You understand why you can’t stay at SHIELD.”

 

Before the General Ross incident, AON would have said no, no he didn’t understand.  Because as much as it seemed like people here cared about him, they didn’t care enough to keep him. 

 

After… he knew better.  Now he knew that it was _because_ they cared so much that they were letting him go.  Staying at SHIELD would have decided the rest of AON’s life for him.  Going with Stane – becoming Anthony Stark – gave him the freedom to find his own path.  He was going to _college_ – MIT to be exact – and could study whatever he wanted.  He could be a doctor or a researcher or even a freaking writer!  And if he ended up deciding he wanted to work for SHIELD…well, it will have been _his_ decision.

 

Just because he was leaving SHIELD, it didn’t mean he was leaving his new, unexpected, insane but extraordinary family.

 

“Yeah,” the teenager smiled, turning around to pick his duffel up off the bed.  “I understand,” he zipped up the duffel bag and then heaved it over his shoulder. 

 

The two walked in companionable silence to the vehicle annex.  The teenager felt his heart warm when he saw the large group of people gathered to see him off.  A hand at his elbow stopped the teenager and he turned to Coulson with a questioning look.

 

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”  Coulson smirked at the teenager and then began to walk forward again.  “I am still your handler, after all.”

 

AON grinned at Coulson’s retreating back before trailing after him.  As he approached, Darcy snapped her fingers and a junior SHIELD agent stepped forward to relieve AON of his duffel bag.  His stuff was packed into a black SUV that Stane and Jarvis were standing beside.  He glanced towards the trailer where Dummy had been safely placed and then turned to say goodbye to his family.

 

Before he could utter a single word, Darcy pulled him into a smothering hug and smashed his face to her ample bosom.  After a second, he managed to pry himself loose from her grasp.  “Bye, Darcy,” AON said with a laugh.

 

“Did you hear that?!  He called me Darcy!  That means he _likes_ me!” The girl screamed happily, tugging at Dr. Foster’s arm.  Jane just rolled her eyes and then pulled AON into a hug with a warm smile on her face.  She told him to keep in touch and AON – who still had a hard time believing he had been given the chance to meet such a brilliant scientist – promised he would.

 

Thor swept the teenager into a huge bear hug and only set AON down when Jane reminded him that the teenager needed to breath.  Steve gave AON a warm handshake and told the teenager he was a good man for handling everything that had happened with such grace.

 

AON swallowed nervously when Natasha reached down to pull out her boot-knife.  When she handed it to him as a parting gift with a small smile on her face, AON gave her a wide grin and took the knife with care.  Darcy snapped her fingers again and another junior agent retrieved the knife to pack it away with the rest of his stuff.

 

Clint held his hand out for a handshake but AON just ignored it and pulled the man into a tight hug.  “Thanks for everything, especially the coffee,” AON said, earning a barked laugh from the archer. 

 

“No problem,” Clint chuckled and patted AON on the back before releasing him.

 

Bruce pulled AON into another hug and then held him at arms length before he started in on the lecture.  “Eat legitimate meals.  You can’t survive on just coffee.  I know some of your courses are going to seem too easy and possibly boring, but _try_ not to antagonize your professors.  Behave for Mr. Stane and Jarvis; I’ll hear about it if you’re causing trouble.  Make-”

 

“Bruce,” AON interrupted with a laugh.  “Stop worrying, I can take care of myself.”

 

“You can,” Bruce agreed with a nod.  “But you know we’re here for you if you ever need help.”

 

AON grinned as he glanced down the line of people he’d already said goodbye to.  “I know.” 

 

With a final squeeze to the teenager’s shoulders, Bruce let AON go.

 

The teenager turned around and walked over to the vehicle waiting on him.  He nodded in greeting to Stane and Jarvis and then pulled the back door open.  Just as he was about to climb in, Darcy yelled out “Bye, AON!”

 

The teenager looked back to the collection of people watching him and grinned. 

 

“Call me Tony,” he yelled back with a wave before sliding into the SUV and pulling the door shut behind him.

 

**END**


	17. In Regards to the Sequel

Author's Note:

So I've gotten quite a few messages/comments from people asking about the sequel 'Good Intent' which used to be posted here (and on ffn). I removed the work but never actually explained why/what was happening with it.

Basically, I had taken a long break from writing, and when I came back, I just had absolutely no inspiration left for the AON universe. Knowing that I was never going to finish a sequel for this story, I decided to delete 'Good Intent' and just leave this story as is, open-ended and allowing for the readers to determine what Tony does from here on out.

Sorry to those of you who had been reading 'Good Intent' (the Clint/Tony sequel), but it's just not a story I have in me to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Nicknames List:  
> Tony: AON (Apropos of Nothing)  
> Coulson: Suit  
> Fury: FOL (Fond Of Leather)  
> Clint: Double-0  
> Bruce: CY (Calm Yourself)  
> Darcy: ENO (Enemy Number One)  
> Maria Hill: FIDO (Framework for Interdisciplinary Design Organization)  
> Natasha: CAS (Crack A Smile)  
> Jane: MC Foster (My Coffee)  
> Thor: Thor is so cool, there is no nickname capable of capturing his awesomeness  
> Steve: NOS (New-Old Stock)


End file.
